When Angels Weep
by kasey8473
Summary: Anakin has won the duel with ObiWan on Mustafar. Padmé must extricate herself and the babies from growing danger. Chapter 18: Anakin forces the issue with disastrous results. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 1

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: I started wondering what might have been different if Anakin had won and one thing led to another until I actually had a plot. I've tried to look at the events logically and hypothesize by the characterizations on screen what could have occurred, taking into account the loss of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the events that could not occur without him. A huge undertaking. This will be primarily from Padmé's POV and _may not _explore events through A New Hope.

Please be patient for new chapters.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker stood over his former master, observing Obi-Wan's pain-filled writhings with something akin to enjoyment. He could not help the gloating words that leapt from his lips, nor the swell of pride in his chest at what he had accomplished. He found he did not want to. 

"I'm the master now, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's lightsaber had very nearly taken off his legs. If Anakin had been a fraction slower, the older man might now be standing in his place and Anakin would be the one on the ground. But he wasn't and Anakin was the victor. Well, he would be in a few minutes, after he finished the job. There was no doubt of that happening. Obi-Wan was too badly injured to retaliate. Anakin crouched down, watching the play of agony across Obi-Wan's features, drinking it in. The power he felt surging through him and about him was a high like he'd never before experienced. It was far greater than when he'd killed the Tuskan Raiders or the Jedi in the Temple, heady and sweet.

"You're a servant," the dying Jedi gasped. "A slave. You'll always be one in serving the dark side."

Stretching his hand out, he willed Obi-Wan's lightsaber to come to him. So, his old master thought him a slave? Anakin shook his head. He'd been a slave once. Never again. Just words. Obi-Wan was trying to get into his head, to twist him as he'd claimed Palpatine had already done. "I'm free, Obi-Wan. I'm free of the Jedi oppression. My eyes have been opened."

"Your eyes have been closed and you are blind."

His lips compressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing. "That's your opinion." He stood, contemplating giving his old master a shove into the flow of lava and watching him burn to death. "I don't have to listen to your opinions anymore."

Obi-Wan said nothing more, no pleas and no begging, only a pitying stare tinged with anguish. Anakin expected nothing less. This man would not admit wrong doing or the treachery of the Jedi. No, he firmly believed in the Jedi as good. Anakin gave him a last lingering glance, pushing memories of happy moments with this man into the back part of his mind. It was time to put away the past.

Anakin's lightsaber flashed downward a final time, silencing forever Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Slowly, taking the time to relish what he'd accomplished, Darth Vader set out back towards the landing pad. As he approached, he remembered unfinished business.

Padmé.

* * *

Padmé was in trouble. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, not with Palpatine's interested tone of voice upon hearing the news that she was alive and Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead. Not to mention that Anakin had ceased to be Anakin. She was neck deep and sinking, not in a position to take charge and save herself. A pregnant belly that got bigger by the day rather hampered quick movement at times. 

Besides, she found fear of Anakin growing in her breast with every satisfied glance he turned her way. Fear. Her eyes closed a brief second. She'd never thought she'd ever have to fear Anakin. He was her Annie, her love, the one who made her whole. He completed her.

No!

Padmé drew a long shaking breath.

Her Annie was gone, buried in this creature that inhabited his body. He was there, she knew he was, unable to wrench himself free. She couldn't believe anything else.

This man was not her husband. That was apparent in how he'd behaved upon entering the skiff. The man she'd loved would have held her, kissed her and cuddled her, his hands gentle upon her. As he'd stepped to her, she'd hoped he'd do those things; that she'd dreamed the entire moment on the landing pad. Padmé had held on to that hope with a desperation that startled her. She'd hoped they could still return to how they had been.

She'd dreamed, nothing more. She'd passed out from the fumes of this place, nothing more. Obi-Wan had lied, nothing more. Each thought had put hope inside her, a hope quickly snuffed out as he'd stopped beside her, looking down at her with eyes too cold to be her Annie's.

Dead eyes, as though a walking corpse stood at her side.

The man with her did none of those loving things she wanted. He _did_ touch her, but as one would a treasured possession, with a satisfied sweep of a hand across her belly. There were no tender kisses upon her lips or the soft caress of his fingers on her cheek.

_Obi-Wan is dead,_ he'd said_. He can no longer poison you against me. Things will be fine, Padmé. You'll see. We'll be happy, like before._

He'd not understood her tears, brushing aside her protests that he wasn't her husband with stern words. He'd acted, played the part of Annie, a grotesque mimic of her husband.

You're confused. Of course I'm your husband. Who else would I be?

And then his anger had flared as she'd wept and turned her face away.

Stop crying. There will be no tears. I won't allow them.

She'd remembered his hand lifting on the landing pad, her throat closing up under his direction. His direction. Her husband had tried to kill her. The moment of realizing he would choke the life from her replayed over and over in her mind.

He _had_ killed younglings. Anakin _had_ given himself over to the dark side. He _had_ become twisted and very, very...dangerous.

Padmé attempted to turn her mind to the twist of fate that put her here. The Jedi had been killed and with Obi-Wan's death, she presumed there were no more. Even if there were, she figured they'd be killed soon. No help for her. Obi-Wan would have helped her; would have taken her to safety.

Safety, her mind jeered. What sort of safety is there for you now?

Her heart was a constant pain in her chest, the baby thrashing in her belly as though in agreement with her heartbreak. There was no rescue and the man she'd always thought would protect her if she needed it was gone. Padmé was on her own.

Grief for the man who'd been and was no longer overtook her, wrapping her in a tight embrace that she could not free herself from. It stroked her hair and told her to cry, but then her glance fell on the doorway and she knew she couldn't, not in _his_ hearing. She didn't want to be choked again.

Instead, Padmé lay still, hands stroking her belly, trying to ignore the nausea that accompanied the baby's turnings inside her. How long was she still? How long was she silent? How long exactly did her mind turn in circles of anguished thought? A sense of calm slowly settled over her, as a blanket being gently tucked across her body. In her veins was a curious warm tickling.

Am I dying, she wondered? Is this what it's like to fade away into death's arms? If so, then it was pleasant and she'd willingly take that walk.

Her glance returned to where the droids stood. Threepio was silent for once as Artoo made low murmurings. They both looked so worried. Strange how droids could project emotion. Did they grasp what had occurred? Had they come to realize the precariousness of their situation?

Anakin wasn't visible to her.

No, he wouldn't be visible would he? He was piloting them back to Coruscant now, his attention on that task. They were going where Palpatine ordered. Anakin was to return her to her apartment.

"You're stronger than this, Padmé."

It was a voice in her mind, and yet audible by ear as well, gentle and concerned, familiar even, though she couldn't place it.

"I can't," she whispered. "It hurts too much." Everything hurt. Her mind, her heart, her body. She wished she could will herself to die and escape this new world Anakin was taking her to.

"You _can_."

"Padmé?" Anakin's voice came from the cockpit, silky and a bit sly. She imagined him turning in the chair to look at the doorway. "Are you talking to yourself, my love?"

She stilled, eyes trained in that direction, not even taking in a breath. Would he get up and come back here? The baby stilled as well and when Anakin didn't appear, she relaxed as best she could under the circumstances. After a fashion, the voice continued in her mind and Padmé knew what she had to do.

Protect her unborn children, whatever the cost.

Children?

All thoughts of dying disappeared from her mind.

* * *

Vader relaxed in his seat, considering each action he needed to take upon reaching Coruscant. There was Padmé to care for, then Palpatine to kill and the empire would be his. Nothing would stop him. His power was still growing, he could feel it inside him, stretching out through his limbs. 

He closed his eyes, immediately re-opening them, his smirk fading away. There was something... Vader turned, staring towards where Anakin Skywalker's beloved wife was resting. He heard her voice and was that another voice answering? Not the droids. Vader called out to her.

He wasn't surprised when she didn't answer his question. She was sulking right now and likely would be for awhile. No matter. Padmé would come around eventually. As time passed, she'd see he was right and everything Anakin had done was for her. Slowly, he returned his gaze to the window, making a mental note to search her clothes when they landed. When the sense of another presence returned, Vader mulled it over, attempting to tune himself to it, but it was gone before he could grasp it.

Vader snorted. It hadn't felt threatening, just..._there_. A presence he vaguely recognized. He knew there was only he, Padmé and the two droids on the ship, so he didn't think on the presence overlong, letting his thoughts return back to the musings of the glorious empire he was going to rule.

* * *

Her hands rubbed her belly, eyes closing as she recalled the gymnastics of the baby inside her, so much twisting and turning she'd sometimes been ill from it. Had she allowed the medical droids to tell her anything aside from that she and babe were healthy, she would have known there were two. But she'd wanted to be surprised, to share that surprise and the wonder of birth with her husband. Her Annie would have been a grinning, happy _innocent_ to see and hold their baby for the first time. 

He'd had such innocence in him, a wonder for all things new to him.

How would this man with her now react?

Padmé didn't want to think about it. She envisioned her life from here on out. It was going to be cold and bleak, the light of love snuffed out and hope a tiny flame far from her in the darkness. There were going to be problems, horrible problems. She'd always known Anakin had a jealous streak. He'd tried to hide it, be casual about her male acquaintances. She was going to have to tread carefully now. A trusted friend such as Dormé would need to be present during any dealings with men besides Anakin.

Her mind raced around and around, replaying the choke hold her husband had gripped her with and fast forwarding to what she was going to have to do to protect herself and the babies. Her grief was a numbness inside her, the propelling force to her decisions. Her actions were going to be for her children, herself and ultimately, the good man she knew her Annie to still be.

He was still in there. He was still good. Padmé clung to that belief. She had to find a way to bring him back, even if it took her a lifetime.

The ship set down and Anakin came from the cockpit, sauntering to her. "You've calmed somewhat." His expression took on a puzzled cast and he searched the area, opening cupboards and closet until he'd gone through them all. "Who were you talking to? I heard you." When she didn't answer, he leaned over her, hands braced on either side of her.

A shudder rippled through her.

"No answer? Your tongue grown silent? I'll search you then."

He was efficient in the task, hands doing a thorough pat of her clothing and surrounding area, coming up with nothing. Her trembling would not cease, the babies in her belly kicking hard, as though they sought to free themselves. Padmé bit her lip to keep from crying. She could hear Artoo and Threepio in the background, Threepio's worried conversation and Artoo's answering whistles.

Anakin tossed a glance over his shoulder at them. "Enough of that, both of you." Now he stood, critical gaze running over her as he crossed his arms. "Don't you know, my love, that you should never answer when you talk to yourself? Someone might think you're crazy. We can't have that. Not with my Empress."

She searched desperately for calm, trying not to give in to the panic that skittered over her skin. He still planned them to rule together? After she'd refused? "Don't call me that," she whispered.

He tilted his head, the ghost of a smile upon his lips. "Crazy," he asked with a lift of his brows.

"You _love_," she spat out.

"But you _are_, Padmé. You _are_ my love. Obi-Wan may have turned you against me, but I assure you, it's only temporary. I'll make you remember. No one is going to take you away from me. I won't allow it. You're mine." His left hand stretched down, the backs of his fingers brushing her cheek in a tender caress, a parody in her mind of her Annie's touch. "That's final."

"Have I no mind to decide what I want for myself?"

"Of course you do." His voice was soothing and she fought against being lulled by it. "One of the reasons I love you is for your quick mind. You're upset now, confused. Obi-Wan fed you lies." Soothing and superior, _condescending_, as though he knew best and she could not understand her own mind. "We'll undo his brainwashing, my love. You _will_ remember."

Padmé jerked her head away. Her mind didn't want to process how far into darkness her husband had gone. He was delusional indeed if he thought she'd ever follow him down that stretch of road. Didn't _he_ remember _her_? He was speaking again and she returned her attention back to him.

"--droid standing by to check you over. We'll make sure you're healthy. Those dreams won't come true."

Be calm, she thought. Be very calm. You're in no condition to fight. Let him take you inside. Save your strength. It's only a few steps.

Anakin lifted her, one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees, his grip firm. Padmé whimpered, kept on biting her lip, but nothing was keeping that crawling sensation on her skin away. Panic curled about her limbs, twined as a serpent. She sucked in breath after breath, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she finally identified the emotion she was feeling.

Revulsion.

She was repulsed by Anakin, by the touch of his hands and body against her. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She wasn't supposed to feel sick when her husband was near her.

But he wasn't her husband, now was he? Her Annie was gone, held prisoner by this cold stranger. It was this stranger that repulsed her.

They were on the landing pad, his strides sure and quick, the droids behind them.

I can't do this!

She twisted, pushing at him. "No!" He lost his grip on her back and for a lurching moment, she thought she was going to fall and crack her skull open on the pavement, but then he had a hold on her once more, shifting her into place. "Let go of me!" Though she tried to kick, his mechanical grip on her legs was too sure.

Padmé was wrestled from her private landing dock and into her apartment, past several guards, a medical droid and her ever faithful Dormé. The presence of these others was noticed only as a background, much like Threepio's chatter and Artoo's beeps. They were of no concern. Her primary concern was Anakin's proximity to her.

He was calm, deadly calm, his lips pressed into a tight line. Laying her down on the bed, he knelt beside her. Her arms were held down, keeping her in place. "Just relax, my love."

She rolled her head on the pillow, twisting her wrists, knowing it was no use struggling, yet unable to stop. Her face was wet with her tears, her nose beginning to run. Tomorrow she was going to show bruises from that circle of his fingers on her wrists. Already, they were aching and tender. "No! Let me go, let me go, oh please, let me go," she sobbed, over and over. The medical droid checked her over. Padmé didn't pay any attention to it, continuing to twist and turn in a futile effort to free herself.

"Calm down," Anakin said, moving to look directly down at her.

Her glance flicked upward to his, mouth opening in horror. Her Annie had the most beautiful blue eyes. No more. Where blue should be was yellow and red. Drawing in a long breath, she screamed.

Anakin's hand left her wrists, touching her forehead. There was no sting of a needle, yet she knew she must have been sedated as a heaviness took her body, sleep sucking her under in frighteningly quick seconds. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was Anakin's satisfied smile.

* * *

The apartment was quiet, the shades over the windows creating shadow. Dormé sat on one divan, waiting for Anakin Skywalker to begin. He was at the other end of the divan, forearms resting on his thighs and hands loosely clasped together. He'd been that way since Padmé had succumbed to sleep and the guards and medical droid had gone. She hadn't found it in her heart to leave the two of them alone. He looked like he needed someone there to talk to. She'd filled that position with Padmé enough, so she'd remained, making herself available, tidying the rooms and waiting. Finally, he'd asked her to sit a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, nearly a whisper. 

"I know I can trust you with this, Dormé."

"What is it?" Her lady was sleeping in the bedroom. She'd been surprised to see Padmé hysterical, twisting and hitting and kicking as Anakin brought her in. Even in the most dangerous situations, Padmé Amidala was never less than composed. Seeing her like that had brought home to Dormé that something was quite wrong. But what?

"I'm certain you've noticed by now that Padmé is not herself. She keeps telling me that I'm not her husband, which is absurd because I am. In all honesty, I fear for her welfare, her state of mind." He took a deep breath and released it slowly, head remaining bowed. "You should know the details. There was an..._attack_ on my life. Padmé was there."

Dormé gasped. "She saw it?"

He licked his lips. "She was there," he confirmed. "Obi-Wan had used her to find me, betrayed her trust in him and my own. So much for the Jedi way."

Obi-Wan? She let her glance turn from him to flick about the room. She'd liked Obi-Wan, found him friendly and charming. The last thing Dormé had ever thought to consider him was an assassin. It didn't feel right, but then, little felt right in this world they lived in any more. War changed things. It changed people. She supposed that included Obi-Wan.

"So you see, she's under quite a bit of stress, with that added to everything else."

Her regard switched to the bedroom. In her mind, she saw Anakin holding Padmé down as the drug was administered, remembered Padmé's hoarse cries that faded to whimpers as she'd succumbed to sleep and that loving brush of Anakin's fingers along Padmé's brow. "I see."

She did see, clearly. Dormé counted herself among the privileged few who knew of Anakin and Padmé's marriage and of Padmé's pregnancy. She knew the enormous strain her lady had been under, hiding her love for the young Jedi from friends and family. Only a few people had been given the knowledge, those who would protect her. Dormé had watched her lady become more and more withdrawn and uncertain in her personal life as the months had passed. Padmé had not liked hiding, but had seen no other choice, obviously torn between doing her duty as a Senator and being the wife to Anakin that she wished to be.

"I'd like to know that when I'm not here, she'll be taken care of."

She returned her attention to him, found his stare upon her, a strange intensity in his blue eyes. He was waiting for an answer and she hastened to give one. "Of course I'll stay. I won't abandon my lady when she needs me."

His smile was warm and relieved. "Good. I can't tell you how much this means to me. To _us_." Anakin straightened. "I doubt I'll be gone as much as I was, so there won't be too many extended absences. Peace doesn't require the travel that war does, obviously."

She returned the smile. Padmé always worried so much for him. "That will please her. She always missed you so when you were gone."

Anakin nodded. "Then it's settled. You'll stay. All I ask is that you tell me how she is, how her days go. Is she happy or sad? Is she claiming things that can't possibly be true? I want her to be herself again, to remember..." He broke off suddenly, turning his face away. "I want my wife back."

The clear emotion to every gesture in his voice touched her heart. Padmé was lucky to have a husband who loved her with such a fervor. "We'll take each day as it comes."

Standing, Anakin went to the balcony. "Thank you. Will you sit with her for awhile?"

"Of course."

He was gone in moments and Dormé was left in the silent apartment, reflecting on Anakin's devotion to her lady.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 2

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Thank you to GemL for the beta work. It was greatly appreciated.

* * *

Vader lay on the floor of Palpatine's office, unable to comprehend how he'd gotten there. One moment, he'd been poised to strike, and the next he was flat on his back, his lightsaber in Palpatine's grasp. He'd been blocked. How did that happen? He was stronger than Palpatine. Wasn't he? 

The extent of power his new master held was now much clearer. Vader's lightsaber was deactivated, set aside and he had scant seconds to register the raising of the man's fingertips before agony ripped through him. Vader felt what Mace Windu must have, pain that lanced through his body on a cellular level.

A scream tore from him and he rolled, twisted and turned, trying to escape yet unable. No matter how he moved, his nerves were assaulted, no part of him free of the stinging kiss. It felt like hours, though he knew it had to be mere seconds. A taste. A glimpse of how his master could punish if he chose to.

And he'd not even had a chance to swing his lightsaber.

Somehow, Palpatine had _known_.

The pain abated, Vader's breath coming in harsh pants. He could hear animalistic grunts leaving his throat and opened his eyes to find Palpatine standing over him.

"A reminder, my young apprentice, of your place. Learn it well. Do not attempt this again."

He was dismissed, cheeks burning from his failure as he got to his feet. He stumbled several times, off-balance and woozy, falling heavily to his knees when he bumped against a chair. Stretching out a hand, he brought his lightsaber flying to him, tucking it along his belt and forcing himself to stand and leave the office.

Vader gritted his teeth. He felt worse under Palpatine's reprimand then he ever had under Obi-Wan's.

Your place.

No. If that was his place, on his knees, then it was temporary.

Everyone he passed seemed to have a knowing smirk, privy to his failure and he stalked out of the building, gaining confidence with every step until he once more strode with his head high and shoulders thrown arrogantly back. Too soon. He'd gone too soon to kill Palpatine. That's what had happened. He wasn't ready yet. He needed to practice that patience Obi-Wan had always been going on about and hone his skills.

For that matter, Padmé wasn't ready either. She needed time. They both needed time. Him to grow into his new powers and her to gain her strength. And so, that was their course of action. They'd bide their time and once they were both strong enough, they'd kill Palpatine and rule the galaxy as it should be ruled.

* * *

Her dreams were a twisted jumble of images, few of them pleasant. Padmé drifted through uneasy slumber, her mind calling forth all manner of horrible images, all starring Anakin. She dreamt of him slaughtering children, dragging them up in the grasp of his mechanical hand and impaling their small bodies with his lightsaber. She dreamt of him choking her and of a thousand other things she'd never imagined he'd be capable of. 

Long hours after he'd laid her on the bed, she woke with a dry mouth and mild headache, still mostly dressed in the clothes she'd worn to Mustafar. The detached sleeves were gone, as were her boots. The clothing she still wore carried the sulfurous, unpleasant odor of Mustafar.

Padmé sat up slowly, listening for the sounds of others in the apartment. Somehow, she didn't think she'd been left alone. That might give her an opportunity to leave. There was no way Anakin was going to give her such a chance, not when he was determined no one would take her from him.

She pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the comforting push of a baby and then pangs of hunger. She needed to bathe, then find food, in that order. Padmé removed the fastenings from her hair, running one hand through the length. The tension along her brow eased somewhat. Not enough however. A strange mix of groggy relaxation and wary tension seemed to flow in her veins. The combination was not welcome.

Padmé swung her legs over the side of the bed, another, urgent need surfacing as the babies kicked inside her. She made her way to the refresher. When she returned to the bedroom, she felt better, the stink of Mustafar gone from her hair and skin, replaced by the soothing scent of Naboo wildflowers.

She was going to have to begin distancing herself, a difficult process that was going to be painful emotionally. If she didn't, Anakin was going to sense something. Padmé couldn't allow him to realize her half-formed plans.

Not an easy order, but wholly necessary. Could she do it?

The bedroom felt blessedly cool, a contrast to the heat she'd felt on Mustafar. Outside, she saw the darkness of night and the many twinkling lights of Coruscant. Padmé chose a nightgown, something simple that would cover her when Anakin inevitably returned. She no longer felt comfortable to think of his gaze upon her. Having this man's eyes on her body would be too much like a stranger stalking her.

I should get used to it, shouldn't I, she thought, running a hand along the light green silky folds of fabric. She had to find it within her to let the revulsion slip away into nothingness because it was highly doubtful he was going to live anywhere else. The Jedi were gone, no obstruction to their marriage. He'd do as he pleased and he'd be pleased to live here where the galaxy could see him.

She dropped her towel to the floor and lifted the nightgown, pulling it over her head.

Lingering hands helped settle it into place. She gasped, whirling, Anakin's hands catching hold of her bare arms. He was dressed for bed, sleep pants riding low and chest bare. Her heart beat fast, alarm raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She hadn't even heard him there. Not a single sound announced his presence. That he could enter a room with such quickness and silence horrified her.

"You are _so_ beautiful," he breathed softly, fingers sliding along her arms, touch tickling, smile slow and warm, as though nothing had changed between them. Perhaps for him there was no change. Once, his smile had caused a quickening of her heartbeat and a blush to heat her cheeks. At this moment, her heartbeat still quickened, but not from attraction.

From fear.

She jerked back, tried to anyway. Anakin didn't release her. "Don't touch me."

"Why not? You _are_ my wife. A man is allowed to touch his wife." Defiant triumph glittered in his gaze. Anakin stepped closer and she felt the heat of his body against her. "I could shout our marriage from the rooftops if I choose." He'd wanted for so long to tell the galaxy of their relationship. Nothing was in his way, no Jedi to disapprove of the attachment. Anakin _was_ the Jedi, the very last one.

"Let me go," Padmé said, continuing to pull backward on the off-chance he'd take her wishes into account. Her hands raised to push him away, palms touching his bare chest. How was it that only a few days earlier she'd run her hands over this same spot of flesh without one bit of distaste inside her?

Because, came the answer in her mind. A few days ago he was Annie. _Your_ Annie. Your husband. Since then he's become a stranger who only wears his face.

She shoved at him, lips twisting with a sob she refused to loose. No crying, wasn't that what he wanted, what he'd demanded?

His left hand lifted from her arm, burying in her hair, grasping a handful and turning her head up. Her efforts to push him away were ignored, as though he didn't consider them worthy of attention. "You're not being very wifely, Padmé." He was displeased, brows lowering in a thunderous frown.

"You're not my husband," she snapped, continuing her efforts to free herself. Briefly, she considered giving him a hard punch in the stomach and reconsidered as a vision assailed her of him on Mustafar with his hand raised, directing her throat to close in his anger. Would it happen again? How soon before he lost control of his temper once more? Was he close now?

Anakin rolled his eyes. Impatience was etched on features she still found handsome. "And you're not starting that again. I won't hear that sort of nonsense from you. I am your husband and you are my wife. That's it. That's how it is."

She was released, his mood turning back to light-hearted so quickly that she was left blinking in stunned relief. The place at the back of her head where he'd grabbed her was tender and she touched it gingerly.

"You must be hungry. It's been hours since you've eaten. Can't have you starving yourself and the babies, now can we?"

"Babies?" Padmé kept a surprised lilt to her voice. She wasn't supposed to know there were two.

"Yes. Twins." He brushed his fingers over her belly. "I accessed your medical records."

"Why?"

Anakin tilted his head, half turned away from her. His sideways glance was sly. "To see what else you may have been keeping from me."

Padmé swept by him, walking towards the living area. Her medical records. Confidential records no one should have access to at whim. "Those were confidential, Anakin."

He followed her. "Are you sure you don't want to know the sexes?"

She found food waiting for her, set out on one tiny table and sat, lifting the cover off the plate. Her mouth watered from the delicious smells. "You can't just access private records--"

"That's where you're wrong, my love. I can do anything. I can check my wife's records out of worry for her condition. No one tried to stop me. No one asked questions."

"They didn't ask, or you made them forget they'd asked?"

His eyes narrowed, danger lurking in the depths. "Don't provoke me. You don't know what my afternoon was like."

Padmé felt the blood draining from her face and turned her regard to her plate. She took shallow breaths until she decided she wasn't going to do something stupid, like faint. Food. She should eat, yes? The meal might as well have been tasteless for all she was able to enjoy it. It was simply nourishment, something to keep her and the babies alive.

Anakin watched her as she ate, his gaze fixed upon her. Padmé resisted the urge to tug her nightgown bodice higher, feeling rather like a performer in a play from such rapt attention. She cleared her throat. "Where's Dormé? I thought I saw her here earlier."

"She was here. I told her she could have the rest of the evening for herself. It was touching how she didn't want to leave you, but she gave in without much argument. She's promised to stay on."

Padmé made no comment, not wanting to appear too eager to have a friend near. Better to show him calm acceptance. She took a final bite of her dinner and pushed the plate aside. "What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happens now?"

Anakin rested his arms along the table edge. He looked her over. "We live our lives together. Simple."

"Is it?"

"Of course it is." The plate was set aside, his left hand stretching across the table to grasp at her right one.

She allowed the contact for a single second before pulling away. Any longer and he might notice her hand shaking. She placed both hands in her lap, clasping them tight together. It didn't help, her whole body beginning to tremble. Don't let fear control you, she reminded herself. Master it, don't let it master you. But it was so hard with her body all out of whack from pregnancy. She was far more emotional in situations where she shouldn't show her emotions than she'd ever been. It frustrated her to be this way. Especially at this moment.

"I'll be here now that the war is over. You'll have the babies and all three of you will be healthy. There'll be no dying. It won't happen. We live our lives."

Padmé got up from the table. She was restless, wanting to walk, to run, to do something active to escape. "Nothing is ever simple, Anakin. You know that."

"_This_ is simple, Padmé. You'll see."

For awhile, she tried to read. Her mind wouldn't remain on the story, though it was one she'd wanted to read for a long while and never quite had the time to read for enjoyment. Setting it aside, she looked out the window at the night. Never had time crawled by this excruciatingly slow.

Not to mention that Anakin's stare was unnerving her. He seemed to have nothing better to do than to watch her. He didn't meditate or speak or...anything. He just stared. Finally, Padmé decided she'd throw on some clothes and go out. She'd take a walk. It wasn't very late and she could certainly use the fresh air after Mustafar's poisons. Making her way to the bedroom, she tossed some loose clothing onto the bed and considered whether or not to add a cloak to cover her belly.

Did it matter if she hid her pregnancy? Padmé suspected it wouldn't be long before Anakin made everyone aware of her state, so why should she bother keeping the fact covered? Because it was habit. She'd not had the chance to enjoy the pretty maternity clothing other women did, the clothes that showed off the expectant state. Oh, she'd added pretty pieces to her wardrobe as her waistline increased. How could she resist? Yet she'd added pieces that detracted from the belly, minimizing, slenderizing. Hiding.

She reached for the matching cloak.

Anakin's voice stopped her. "Where do you think you're going," he asked, leaning against the doorframe in a casual pose that emphasized the lean, strong line of his body.

"For a walk. It's close in here."

"Then go out on the balcony."

"I want to walk."

"No." He answered as though she'd asked him if she could go.

"No?" Her eyes widened in question. She shook her head, smoothing the clothes she'd laid out, then returning her attention to him, looking for any sign of growing anger. "I'm going." Decisive words with a hint of telling tremor to them. Did he hear it?

"Not without me and I don't feel like taking a walk tonight. I've had a long day. You're going to remain here and rest. You need rest." A half smile pulled one corner of his mouth. His head tilted back a little. "You can't leave the apartment yet. I mean, you're not yourself, telling me I'm not your husband when I know I am. Dormé knows I am. Palpatine knows. You deny it." His hand raised, fingers scratching lazily at his chest. "Could be you're not in your right mind. Have to be watched. That's the general consensus, Padmé. You need to stay here."

"I want to take a walk, Anakin."

"Well, we don't always get what we want, now do we?"

Frowning, Padmé crossed her arms. She opened her mouth several times to continue, no sound coming out. Anakin's expression was expectant, brows raising as he waited. "I'm going to bed," she said softly, feeling her lower lip begin to quiver and knowing that in seconds she was going to start bawling whether he cared for it or not.

Smirking and without another word, he turned, sauntering from view. She put a hand over her mouth, giving in to tears as she sank into the chair beside her closet.

I can't do this, she thought. Am I to be a prisoner in my own home?

The effort it had taken to remain calm during the meal had worn her out. Padmé put away those clothes she'd gotten out, then climbed into bed. She slipped into sleep not ten minutes later.

* * *

She was an angel. Anakin had thought her that the first moment he'd seen her and he'd continued to consider her his Angel ever since. He'd been captivated by her expressive, kind eyes and her caring manner. Her embrace had comforted when he'd been cold. His beloved Angel. 

Anakin had grown, become an adult and Padmé was still his Angel. He adored watching her as she slept, knowing they had so little time together, each moment precious, something to be treasured. He held those moments in his mind, a balm to soothe the ache of being parted.

She slept on her back, the covers askew across her belly, one arm under her pillow and the other flung to the side towards him. The light filtering in from the window didn't quite reach her slumbering form, the room too dark to see her clearly. He considered her features from memory, ran an imaginary finger along the slope of her nose and across the curve of her cheek. Anakin drew that imaginary hand down, let it caress her belly.

He recalled the flutter of the baby against his palm, that wondrous push of a new life. One of the babies, he corrected. Plural. Joy sparked in him. She was alive. The babies were alive. They were healthy.

A tear trickled down his cheek.

"For you," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Vader opened them, wiped the tear away and left the room without another glance at the sleeping woman.

* * *

The offices were quiet and still. Everyone had gone home save for a few souls still working deep in the building. In the office of the Chancellor, Palpatine sat in his chair thinking over the complication of Anakin Skywalker's wife. The woman's dangerous hold over the boy had to be negated. He had to neutralize the threat of her somehow since she was, _regrettably_, alive. 

But how? What method would best make her little more than a pesky bug to swat at leisure?

He steepled his fingers together.

What would fiery, opinionated Padmé fear most to happen to her? He knew the young woman, had glimpsed her courage and skills. She didn't fear death, though that would come for her in good time. It had to be something that would terrify her into submission, render her useless. She had to be unable to act out.

A sudden idea sprung forth, brilliant in its deviousness.

Cut her off. Make her as an island in a vast ocean. Alone. Make her dependant upon...Vader. Take each and every freedom she held dear from her in a methodical, logical way until she must call Vader master to even take a stroll outside the apartment. Break her will. Isolate her from friends, family and colleagues.

She'd have nowhere to turn, dependant upon the boy which would fuel that one's needy arrogance, thereby making him more attached to her. And so on and so forth, snowballing into a completely parasitic and unhealthy relationship until her death shattered whatever tiny sliver of Anakin still remained intact in Vader's mind.

He almost clapped his hands with glee. Yes. _Yes_. It'd take awhile longer than originally planned, but in the end, Palpatine would still have a fully broken man to build up as he chose. There was such potential for Vader with her alive still. He sensed the whole of it now. Anakin's need for her could be twisted further, taken to darker levels. He could be made needier, as dependant upon her as she would be on him.

Why, Palpatine could almost feel Anakin's anguish already for the eventual loss of his family! The power of it would be..._glorious_.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 3

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Many thanks to GemL, my beta.

* * *

Morning brought no relief for Padmé. Her mind still whirled with grief for her Annie and she was relieved to discover Anakin not in the apartment. Dormé was setting out a meal for her, with Threepio helping. When she came into the room, both turned. 

"Oh, Miss Padmé, you are awake at last!" Threepio came to her. "It is good to see you out of bed."

"Good morning, Threepio," she replied, making her way towards the table.

Dormé greeted her with a smile and a nod. "Thank you, Threepio. You've been a great help. I can manage from here." When Dormé was on duty, it was their custom to take breakfast together.

"Oh, of course. If you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to."

When they were alone, Padmé struggled to find a place to begin. She wanted to tell her friend everything that had happened, get her advice. But she only toyed with her fork, picking at the food before her. She was uneasy, wondering what this day was to bring her. What new complication was going to be added to her life?

"How are you feeling this morning, my lady?" Dormé's gaze was kind and warm, the genuine concern in those depths bringing on those weepy tendencies that frustrated Padmé so much.

How was she feeling? Honestly? Should she even admit to her honest feelings, mental and physical? She'd never edited herself for Dormé, so why begin now? "I feel...like I've lost everything. I'm adrift."

"How so?" The woman sipped from her own cup, head tilting a fraction with the question.

Padmé set down her fork without taking one bite. "I want to tell you what happened. Hear me out." Dormé nodded amiably and Padmé began her tale, leaving nothing out. She started with Obi-Wan's arrival, spilling those things he'd said and then moving on, straight to the moment where Anakin had choked her. The words became rushed and stumbling, slipping from her lips almost faster then she could form them. Several times, she had to pause and take a breath. Padmé started crying in earnest, sobs pouring from her as she shook her head. "This man here is not my husband."

There was a frown on Dormé's brow, a gentle curve and she was slow in replying. "My lady... Padmé. Anakin Skywalker _is_ your husband. You told me yourself. And as for Obi-Wan..." She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself. "Obi-Wan Kenobi was a traitor. It's been all over the HoloNet news how he and the other Jedi were going to seize power. I know you don't want to believe it and I don't as well, but--"

"No!" Padmé shoved back her chair and stood. "You weren't here that day. You didn't see the truth in his eyes." Padmé pointed to herself. "I saw the truth. I didn't want to believe it. And then Anakin on that horrible planet. He choked me, Dormé! That man tried to kill me! He may be Anakin, but he's not my Annie, not my husband."

"You've no bruises. When a person is choked, there are bruises. There are physical signs and you have none." Dormé set down her cup. "My lady, either Anakin Skywalker is or isn't your husband. In one breath you've claimed he both is and isn't. That speaks of deep confusion and I believe he's right. You need rest. He _said_ the stress was getting to you."

"Stress!" She laughed a bit hysterically, knowing she was fueling Dormé's opinion and unable to stop. Stress. How ironic that Anakin would claim stress was her problem when it had actually been his. Obi-Wan had been so worried about the stress Anakin was under...

Dormé didn't believe her. Padmé could see it in how she averted her eyes and smoothed the cloth that covered the table. What could she do to convince her?

Well, her mind jeered, you could compose yourself and talk rationally. Dormé does have a point. It is absurd to talk that way. Is and isn't at the same time. What sense does that make? None.

"You should take a few days and relax. Don't go in to your office. Let your staff there work for you. If anything needs signed or your particular attention, they can bring it here. You'll need to begin taking time anyway with your due date closer. Why not ease out now?"

Padmé stilled, the words sinking in. "I can work if I choose? I can get dressed, go to my office and work in peace? I'm not confined here?" She'd been certain Anakin would order her to be walled in to keep her here. That wasn't the case? She could come and go as she pleased? Somehow, Padmé couldn't quite believe it as truth.

Dormé shook her head. "Not to my knowledge. Anakin _would_ prefer that you remain here and rest, but I don't believe you're under 'house arrest'." She meant the words as a joke, lips turning up in a grin. Padmé couldn't take them as a joke, not returning the grin. Dormé sat back in her seat, a serious mien returning. "He's concerned, my lady. You _are_ pregnant and you _did_ breathe in the air on that planet. You fainted."

"Fainted." So that was the explanation being given for her loss of consciousness.

"Yes. You should care for yourself and your babies, make certain there are no lasting effects from that place."

And that ended the conversation. She managed to eat a few bites from the plate prepared for her, then excused herself to bathe and dress. Padmé took her time with morning preparations. Later in the day she'd be having a more intensive prenatal check-up. As she considered the appointment, Padmé found she was very upset with Anakin for telling her she was carrying both a boy and girl. She'd wanted the surprise. With all of the technology available for her, she'd wanted that single thing to be a surprise. He'd ruined it, almost with glee.

Are you sure you don't want to know the sexes?

She braided her wet hair and slipped on the clothes she'd wanted to wear the night before. Dormé came into the bedroom.

"My lady, Bail Organa has sent a message. He wishes to speak to you."

"Thank you. Is he in his office?" He would be in a few days was the reply and Padmé had Dormé schedule a meeting with him. Determined to go about her day as normally as possible, she planned a full list of activities. It would do her good to be outside moving around, better than being cooped up here with memories of Annie staring her in the face.

* * *

The figure of Anakin Skywalker appeared and Dormé glanced toward the bedroom. He'd chosen a good moment to contact her. Padmé was bathing and getting dressed while Dormé perused her schedule for the day and made necessary security arrangements. 

"How is she this morning," he asked without preamble.

"Still a bit disoriented," she replied. She was still mulling over everything her lady had told her, trying to make the events make sense. Studying his image, that interested, open expression, she found the story difficult to believe. He was genuinely concerned for Padmé, torn apart by her manner. Would such a man choke his own wife when his love for her could be felt so deeply?

"How so?"

Should she mention that tale Padmé had given? No, it would worry him more to know the details. He shouldn't have to know the sort of anguish that would come from hearing Padmé had claimed he'd used violence against her. "She maintains you aren't her husband," Dormé said instead. If he absolutely needed to know the other bit later, she'd tell him.

He sighed, posture slumping just a bit and head bowing. "I see. Is she relatively calm though?"

Was her lady calm? Sort of. Actually, since the outburst, she was more like herself than she'd been, taking charge of the day in her usual composed manner. "Yes. I believe she wishes to go to her already scheduled appointments for today. I see no reason why she shouldn't. I'll be there and I'm arranging guards to accompany us. If anything happens, there'll be plenty of help about."

"What appointments does she have?" His voice came through hard and cold, as though it was unthinkable she should have any plans at all.

Dormé glanced at the appointments listing. She was imagining the tone, she thought, her mind treading back to Padmé's words at breakfast. Her lady's tale had made her mildly uneasy, that was all. To think it truth was disturbing. But it couldn't be truth. Anakin cared so very much for his wife. She was only imaging that tone. "The usual meetings with other Senators this morning and a prenatal check-up this afternoon. Perhaps more as the day goes by."

He asked for the information on the check-up and she gave it to him. In the past, her lady had longed to have him accompany her and now it could come true. Anakin would go to the pre-natal check-up with her. When his image was gone, Dormé smiled in satisfaction, pushing aside all unease that lingered. Be gone with it! Everything Padmé had wished for was coming true at last.

Padmé wanted Anakin on Coruscant and he was. She wanted their secrets to be in the open, hiding done with. Exactly what was happening. He wasn't going to be dismissed from the Jedi Order and they could be open about their relationship and family. Padmé wanted Anakin with her for the rest of the pregnancy and the birth. So it was. All of her wants coming true.

See, Dormé thought to herself. There _is_ such a thing as a happy ending.

She stood and went to see if Padmé wanted help with anything before they needed to leave.

* * *

Walking the halls of the Jedi Temple was an interesting experience, Anakin reflected, finding himself outside his old quarters, the ones he'd had as a Padawan. So many different feelings and sensations whirling about. There was a numbness surrounding him and he could almost hear voices calling out to him. 

_Anakin. __Anakin listen to me._

Almost. 

He cocked his head. They were faint though, perhaps fading echoes of the past, words he could hear yet scarcely make out. Memories. Voices recorded that were coming through static. If he concentrated, a word here and there would become clear.

Why won't you listen?

In his mind's eye, he could see the children walking and running along this corridor, hear their voices in happy chatter with each other or in reverential conversation with a Master. If he concentrated, Anakin thought he could almost smell the scents of tea, flowers and...scorched circuitry.

A small smile turned his lips. After all, _he'd_ lived along here and his quarters had always held some kind of droid he'd been putting back together. He opened the door and peered in, seeing the room as it had been left. Cleaned and ready to be reassigned. There was not even a stray bit of wire forgotten about on the floor. The air inside was flat and stale. A wave of melancholy took him over and he closed the door, continuing on this tour he'd felt compelled to take.

No child would be assigned to those quarters anymore.

...blinded, Master...

The bodies had all been removed, but so far, the personal possessions remained. No looters had come into the Temple, no souvenir hunters wishing for something to remember the Jedi by. So far, all were too afraid to risk coming here. He passed the quarters of those he'd known, traveling the roads of memory, occasionally taking a look inside.

The sight of child sized garments flung across the end of a bed caused a tightness to grip his chest and an ache along his brow. Still, he continued his tour, driven by an impulse to do so.

Remember.

His lips tightened and Anakin gritted his teeth. He strained to hear what the now singular voice was saying and couldn't make it out. Clarity escaped him. Frustration began to grow inside him as that presence he felt with the voice remained just out of reach.

You're a good man, Anakin. Remember that.

There had been happy times here, overtures of friendship, meals taken with camaraderie and challenges that had pushed his skills to higher levels. But there had also been times he'd rather forget.

Those friendly overtures had dissolved in rivalry more often than not. Class periods had been strained with the sense he'd had that he should always be doing better than he was. Those expectations he'd ascertained from his instructors that he should be _more_ than the others and fear when he excelled far above them. There was aching loneliness that ate at him from the inside out. Coldness that tried to encase his heart.

It would have been far kinder if no one had ever mentioned the words 'Chosen One'. Sometimes he'd wondered what it would have been like to be just another Padawan, unaware of those two words that marked him and set him apart.

A dream, he thought. You've always known you were more than the others. Had they never said you were the Chosen One, you still would have been set apart by how they treated you. They never trusted you and it showed. They never **would** have trusted you. Ever.

His gaze touched upon the walls, the floor, the place he'd learned to pretend he called home. Obi-Wan had trusted him. And Padmé.

The Jedi never wanted you. Now you are the Jedi. You can do whatever you like without archaic rules and regulations governing your life.

Anakin sighed. It was nearing time for Padmé's appointment and he wanted to be there, to make sure she and the babies were still well. He gave a last look about him...

Vader turned away and strode quickly from the Temple. He had better things to do than wallow in the past.

* * *

Privacy for these appointments had always meant a lot to Padmé. She went into the exam alone, no handmaiden or guard with her, yet here was Anakin, barging in where she didn't want him. She didn't want him standing there, looking at the monitors, listening to her questions over what was normal for her condition. She didn't want him asking his own questions and satisfying his own curiosity. Not this man. 

Annie, she would have welcomed with her. Him she wouldn't have minded sitting in the chair, watching the monitors, hearing the questions and answers.

He settled into a chair, long legs stretched out and arms crossed. To her surprise, he asked no questions, made no comments during the exam, sitting silent as though he wasn't entirely sure why he'd come to begin with. Then again, she decided, he can always access the records later if he wants. She had no doubt he would access them on whim because he _could_.

Occasionally, he'd lean his head back with a faint cool smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His lips would part and eyes narrow and then he'd blink and give a slight nod. What was he hearing? What was he seeing? What was he feeling as he sat there? Padmé hadn't any idea.

When they were alone, an amused expression crossed his features, his blue eyes alight with humor. "You're angry with me."

Padmé sniffed, slipping her shoes back on. "What would give you that impression," she asked, keeping as much ice in her tone as possible.

He stood, a graceful, fluid movement where he seemed to glide up to a standing position, and shrugged. "Nothing much. The way you keep giving me a cold shoulder. The frown you have when you look at me. That miffed sniff. They all point to you being displeased about something. I assume it's me at the moment, but feel free to disabuse me of that notion if I'm in error." When she narrowed her eyes at him, he 'tsked'. "What _have_ I done?" He gave her a quick glimpse of straight white teeth.

Padmé blinked, weighing the wisdom of having this matter out with him and deciding he'd consider it a little matter, not anything to be unduly angry over. It was 'safe' to discuss it. "Sexes," she said, reaching for her cloak and putting it on.

"What about them, my lady?" He drawled the last two words and she was momentarily catapulted back in time to other moments when he'd said those words the same way. 'My lady', a slight emphasis on the 'my'. His lady, meaning his and his alone.

She licked her lips, unwilling to be sidetracked. "You said 'sexes', Anakin. Plural, as in two, male and female. I wanted to be surprised. There's no surprise now. A boy and a girl. It's one thing for you to decide you want to know and another to inform me without my consent to knowing!"

He frowned, a caricature of penance. "I'm sorry. Didn't think you'd notice that word."

He wasn't sorry. Sorry wasn't in his voice, his eyes, his expression or any part of him. The apology meant nothing without sincerity and Anakin was not sincere. He'd meant to tell her, done so deliberately. "Don't give me that. You _knew_ I would. You knew I'd notice."

"Maybe I did."

"Maybe?" She raised her brows. In the past, this tone and expression had induced him to be honest with her. He'd pause, swallow and step towards her, admitting concerns and fears. In the past, he'd deferred to the natural authority her age had given her.

This time, it failed, miserably so. It could even be said to have backfired on her.

He flushed, lips tightening, a sign that he was gritting his teeth. He closed his eyes and turned his face away for a brief second before looking back at her. "You're done with appointments for the day. We're going back to the apartment." Anakin drew himself up tall, looming over her. A domineering pose, intended to intimidate, but Padmé had learned long ago not to be cowed by such tactics.

"You're changing the subject and no," she replied, moving towards the door, ignoring the imperiousness of his words, the _command_, "I'm not done. I still have three meetings before the evening meal and two after. I'll be working late--"

The door wouldn't open, Padmé nearly bumping into it before she noticed. She stopped speaking, listening instead to her husband's breaths. They were loud and forcibly slowed. Her eyes slipped shut as she gulped, her throat suddenly gone dry. Padmé clenched her hands in the soft folds of her cloak. Her palms became damp with perspiration as the silence continued. Finally, she could wait no longer.

"Anakin, open the door."

"No," he gritted out.

Padmé didn't have to turn to know that his hands were balled into fists and he was having to exert a tight reign over his temper. She'd seen it before, though not quite as often as she had in the past couple days. He had an explosive temper when things didn't go as he wanted them to. "Anakin, please."

"Please? Are you begging me, Padmé?"

Her legs trembled, felt as though they were going to collapse beneath her. One of the babies kicked hard. "I'm asking. Please, will you open the door?"

"No." There was a petulant timbre to his voice and she turned to look at him. Even if Dormé could see him now, she didn't think her friend would accept the truth of what had been told to her that morning. Dormé had witnessed Anakin's sometimes childish bent before and been amused by it. She'd even laughed in the apartment about it as they'd packed that long time ago.

How frightening though, to see this in a grown man, a child's tantrums unleashed with a man's strength. She recalled him on Tatooine, throwing items around and claiming he was being held back, saying Obi-Wan was jealous of him. Padmé had dismissed his tantrum then, for she'd known what had fueled it. He'd been grieving for his mother, appalled by his own actions to avenge her and frightened that he'd lost that control he was supposed to have. She'd tried to soothe, excusing the burst of temper for those reasons. Then, she'd placed her hand on his cheek and embraced him, his head to her breast. He'd been hurting, a deep hurt, and didn't everyone lash out when their hurt built up too much? It was normal.

She should have known then that he was capable of even darker things. She should have seen what was coming and run from him as fast as she could.

But if she had, she never would have known Annie's love. She never would have been wrapped up in the wonder of it, of the peace that came from loving another person. She never would have had these precious babies in her belly and her life would have been unutterably dull. Padmé would have lost so very much if she'd never chosen to follow her heart for the first time in her life.

"What do you want," she asked softly. "What will make you open this door and let me out?"

"Cancel your appointments. Spend the rest of the day with _me_." His hands unclenched, the anger leeching from him until his stare was merely entreating. His ire was gone, as swiftly as it had raised up and he looked as tired as she now felt.

"Anakin, I have duties--"

"You've always had duties," he interrupted. "Isn't it time to have a personal life? Isn't it time you were simply Padmé-wife and not Padmé-Senator?"

There was no leaving this room until she agreed, was there? He was going to hold those doors shut until she told him she'd cancel the appointments and throw her career to the wind. Padmé bent her head, looking down at her belly. Wasn't she going to have to do that anyway? Wasn't that a part of what she had to do to ultimately find safety? She had to step back, to fade away into obscurity. Give up everything she'd worked for.

This, here and now, _was_ her duty, to lull him into relaxing his grip on her and the babies. It had to start sometime. This was the perfect opening. Did she have the stomach to begin it? Could she tolerate the stranger in her Annie's place?

"It's one night, my love. The entire galaxy won't fall into tatters in a single night."

No, it couldn't fall into tatters because it was already there, the Republic shattered into strips waving limply in the breeze. Broken. Giving last gasps of the dying.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, "and you're right. You _will_ have to step back. When the babies are born, you'll need to take time off from duties."

Tolerate or not, she had to. Padmé steeled herself, shoving her thoughts as deep as she could, trying to hide from him. After a moment, she gave an almost stilted nod of her head. "I'll agree, but I need to work tomorrow, Anakin. I have to maintain my schedule as it stands until the last possible moment."

He came to her, hands touching her arms, running over the soft material. "You need to slow down. Your due date will be here before you know it. Ease back, Padmé. Now. Don't make me go to Palpatine and have him order it. You know I will."

She forced herself to place her hands on his chest, to grasp the edges of his tunic. "I will," she promised.

Padmé didn't even flinch when he kissed her.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 4

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Ellé and Moteé are names mentioned in the SW:ROTS Visual Dictionary.

* * *

Bail was relieved to see Padmé alive and well, if a bit surprised that she was up and about. Earlier in the week, when Bail himself was seeing Master Yoda to safety, Padmé had been returned to her apartment by Jedi Skywalker. It was rumored that she'd been hysterical, fighting him all the way, and had needed sedating to calm her. Who had leaked that tidbit was a mystery, for the guards never gossiped, nor did he think Dormé the type to do so. Was it a ploy to weaken her position among the Senators? Among the people she served? 

He was saddened that Obi-Wan Kenobi had died fighting Skywalker. Yoda had seemed every bit his age at the moment he'd felt the younger Jedi's death, nodding sadly and heaving a long sigh. His next words had been instructions for Bail, clear and concise instructions. He was to guard himself against Skywalker and Palpatine and protect Padmé, even if it seemed at first glance that she needed no protection. Palpatine, Yoda had cautioned him, will see some evil use for Padmé. He was to prevent what he could without revealing himself.

Bail gave her a quick embrace, little more than an arm about her shoulders, a show of friendly concern. "I'd heard you were resting in your apartment." He couldn't help the glance that fell to her belly. Tongues were wagging about Padmé in more ways than the one. She was the target of gossip all over Coruscant. Bail supposed that tawdry gossip was a way people had of relieving their own tensions of late. Talking about someone else's problems suddenly made theirs seem far less.

The Senator was revealed as being pregnant and Jedi Skywalker's concern for her pointed towards him being the father. Bail blinked. Not only his concern but also his presence in Padmé's apartment. The Jedi had made no secret of his goings into and out of the building the past few days, as though he lived there.

Bail suspected there was far more to the situation than what was presently evident. It was strange to him that his friend had hidden her condition for so long only to turn and display it in the last months. No, there was more going on here than was obvious. Padmé must be in an extremely delicate position now considering Skywalker's startling descent into the Dark side.

He gave Dormé a nod of acknowledgement, which she returned, and went to his desk, seating himself and waiting for Padmé to sit.

She shook her head, easing herself into a comfortable chair. "No, I can't stay there hidden away. I've duties. I can't abandon them," she gave him a sad smile, "no matter what my condition."

"About the Jedi affair," he began, then paused as Padmé's brows lowered. Her expression was guarded and he quickly changed what he'd been about to say. "What are your thoughts?" Did she think they couldn't speak freely here? Bail glanced at the two of his aides present and at Dormé, considering that. He knew without one doubt that his aides would say no word of what was discussed. But Dormé?

She was the only one of Padmé's handmaidens currently on Coruscant, the only one present when Padmé had been brought back. Ellé and Moteé were on Naboo visiting their respective families. He thought on what he knew of her. Dormé was loyal to Padmé and discreet. Other than that, he knew nothing. Did Padmé suspect Skywalker was manipulating her handmaiden?

"It is a sad day," Padmé said, "when friends can be considered enemies."

There was emphasis on 'friends', her gaze steady and expectant. Bail nodded in understanding. For now, he'd guard his words in front of Dormé. Talking honestly would be difficult, but if it needed to be done, then so be it. A way would be found.

"That it is," he replied. "A very sad day." She looked tired. Bail smiled gently. "How are you really, Padmé?"

She gave a laugh that sounded forced. "As well as can be expected. I'm trying to discover how word leaked about my pregnancy and have had no luck in the endeavor. It's of no matter however. Have you heard of the interview?"

Bail leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the chair arms. "Interview? No. What interview?"

"The one Anakin and I are giving tomorrow." At his silence, she raised a brow. "A rare one-on-one, or two to one in this case, interview with Senator Amidala and war hero Anakin Skywalker."

"Is that a good idea, Padmé?"

"Palpatine suggested it and his office set it up. It is confirmed."

What would an interview accomplish? Bail wished he could see the advantage of it. To raise Skywalker up higher in the esteem of the people? Why would Palpatine wish that? He put the matter in the back of his mind to consider later and turned conversation to business.

* * *

The seat she sat on was hard and uncomfortable. Padmé didn't remember her seat being this wretchedly uncomfortable before and attributed it to her own impatience, not the seat itself. Palpatine seemed determined to keep them there the rest of the day, making announcement after announcement of changes that were being implemented. Each was more ludicrous than the last, security tightening further about Coruscant. 

There were to be even more checkpoints and id's must be on hand at all times. While the war may have been won, there were still the fleeing remaining Separatists to deal with and who knew how many might attempt to retaliate in a vain hope of continuing the war? There must be increased vigilance so that order could be returned to the galaxy.

Palpatine was in fine form today, she had to admit that. Occasionally the applause drowned out the sound of his voice.

She reached a hand behind her and rubbed her lower back, shifting position slightly, her glance straying to other sections. Her glance was met with either hostile stares or pleased smirks. Padmé returned her attention to the proceedings, forcing her concentration back onto Palpatine.

She knew him for what he was now. After hearing his brief conversation with Anakin on Mustafar, she knew for certain that Palpatine had been the enemy all along. While pretending friendship, he'd plundered the Republic. It troubled her to think how wrong she'd been about him this entire time.

Padmé sighed, her thoughts gathering speed on that thread. She'd been wrong about many things, including what side they should have been on. The Separatists had been right, no matter how their movement had begun. In the end, they had been standing on the moral high ground and been struck down anyway. Where was true justice in this galaxy?

Another smattering of applause made her glance up. Padmé frowned, noting the wild approval of whatever Palpatine had announced. Senators were grinning, applauding, cheering. What...?

"Again, I say I am honored to accept the title of Emperor." His voice seemed to echo around the room.

The babies began to kick, pushing hard and Padmé rubbed her hands across her belly in a soothing gesture. Now she understood the cheering.

Palpatine's title had been changed.

She exchanged a glance with Bail. _Emperor_, she mouthed sadly, shaking her head. Everything she'd worked for years had now fully fallen apart. The Republic was a dictatorship, well and truly. She'd known it was only a matter of time before he'd change his title, but so soon?

She recalled a conversation she'd once had with Anakin. They'd been sitting in a meadow on Naboo, the remainder of their picnic packed away and the sun shining down upon them. At the time, she'd thought he was teasing her with the talk of one person making others do what was right. Sadly, she now knew he really believed it. Worse, he was a party to it. He was loyal to this creature who had declared himself Emperor.

Did he really feel that Palpatine knew what was right for everyone? If a person was corrupted already, then what sort of true guide was that person's sense of right and wrong? Wouldn't it be mixed up and the view of both skewed to the side?

Tears threatened and she blinked them back. She refused to fall apart here in the Senate. She was already under far too much scrutiny for her liking and foresaw it only growing worse as time went by. People loved to watch public figures fall and her fall, when it inevitably occurred, was going to be spectacular. Padmé had no doubt it would happen either. The only question was when.

Before she fell, it was her duty to take her babies to safety. As their mother, it was her responsibility to protect them and protect them Padmé would.

She let herself smile. And they're not even born yet, she thought.

By the time the day was through, Padmé was ready to go home. She was exhausted, her body weary from doing nothing but sitting down. That spot on her lower back wouldn't stop aching. If her Annie was there, she'd have him rub it for her. He'd always given the most marvelous backrubs, seeming to know by instinct just where the knots were and how to work them away.

She entered the lift, Dormé behind her. Reaching out a hand, Dormé paused the lift halfway up. Padmé slanted a curious glance towards her. Her handmaiden and friend gave her a stare right back and Padmé noticed hurt brewing there in her eyes.

"You don't trust me anymore, my lady. That business about friends in Bail Organa's office earlier today... You meant _me_, didn't you? Why? I've done nothing to warrant mistrust."

"I can't trust anyone, Dormé. Even you," she replied, turning to face her. "I've told you why and you chose not to believe me." Padmé was honest with her. She could be nothing less.

Dormé nodded. "I see." She peered down at the floor a moment. "I am still loyal to you first, my lady. I always will be. I didn't tell him what you told me."

Padmé could feel Dormé's desperation in the air itself, a palpable thing and it suddenly occurred to her that Anakin might sense it if he was there. Might? He'd pounce on it. She had to diffuse this and fast. "I know you are. You've stood by me for years --"

"Then why won't you continue to trust me?"

Licking her lips, Padmé searched for a tactful reply and could find no other way but blunt to put this. "Because I don't know who I can trust. Please understand, Dormé. Consider that I'm telling the truth. Anakin isn't himself. He's become polluted by the darkness the Jedi knew of. Look at this from that perspective. Would you know who to trust when everything you knew has been turned upside down and the man you married is now a stranger?"

The lift began to ascend and Padmé stabbed at the controls, halting it once more.

"Dormé?"

The woman was looking at her as though she was speaking gibberish. Slowly, she nodded again. "I suppose if the truth has been told, that your action is logical. Trust no one until each has proven trustworthy." She gave a tremulous smile. "I'll prove myself, my lady. I will."

The lift jerked, slid smoothly upwards. Anakin was waiting for them. "Technical difficulties," he inquired.

"Something like that," Dormé answered, taking Padmé's cloak and excusing herself.

Anakin smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're late. I expected you an hour ago."

She moved past him into the living area, sitting on one divan and discovering she wasn't ready to sit again. Padmé got up and moved to the balcony. "Did you see the announcement?" She swept one hand along the railing and looked down.

"No," he replied, joining her, leaning against the rail. "I knew it was today though."

"You knew."

"Didn't you?" He appeared to consider that funny, laughing. "An empire needs an Emperor. Isn't that how it works?"

"Is it, Anakin?" Padmé shrugged. "I wouldn't know. My only experience is with a Republic based on democracy." As had happened earlier in the week, there was no getting an upper hand on the conversation. He ignored her arched brow and tone, his stare patient. Another battle of wills, she thought. He was trying to make her speak again instead of him answering. Grudgingly she admitted to herself that he was learning quickly how to turn the tables on her. He could almost be considered a prodigy in the speed with which he was learning.

Finally, he tilted his head. "You'll make a wonderful Empress when our day comes."

"Is it coming," she inquired, turning her face aside, wondering what his proposed timetable was on that venture. "Soon?"

He stepped closer, his hand raising, touching her hair. Anakin bent his head, pressed a warm kiss to her temple and another beside her ear. "That day could be tomorrow if you wish it, my love. We could begin our reign with that interview." More kisses, gentle and soft, were pressed to her neck. "They'd cheer us, you know. Like they do him. Maybe not the Senators, but the people, Padmé. The people love us already."

She was turned, his lips taking hers. Padmé trembled against him, again alarmed that he was serious about it. He really wanted them to rule the galaxy together. He had it all played out in his head and she wrenched herself back in disgust. Raising a hand, she wiped it across her lips. "I won't be party to a dictatorship."

Anakin let her go, nodding slowly. "Maybe next week then?"

His amused laughter followed her as she hurried into the bedroom.

* * *

Although Dormé watched Anakin carefully that night, he was nothing but charming. Padmé was in a strange mood, pensive and calm one moment, then on the verge of tears the next. Dormé wasn't too worried, however. She'd read up on pregnancy during the long hours her lady had been in the Senate and thought she understood Padmé's frame of mind better than she had. 

It must be horrible to be expecting a baby during a war, when anything could happen. Her hormones were nowhere near settled and there were the emotional changes a woman went through when having a baby. Couple that with her worries over Anakin's safety and her lady was in a delicate way emotionally. Little things would be magnified as her moods swung out of control.

Was that what was happening? Anakin _had_ been gone a long while. Had Padmé maybe forgotten some things about his personality that were now magnified by her own emotional perceptions?

"Are you certain you don't want to join us, Padmé," Anakin called out to her as he readied the strategy game they planned to play.

She shook her head, her answer curt. "No. I've said already that I don't want to play."

Anakin raised his brows to Dormé. "Guess that was the wrong thing to ask."

Dormé watched him, his concentration on the game, those quick worried glances he tossed Padmé's way. She thought back to the lift. If her lady spoke the truth, where was the proof that he was not what he'd been? He was the same as Dormé had always known him. Teasing and mischievous, yet inclined to brooding when things didn't go his way. He was a grown man with a bit of boy still there.

She decided to continue watching him. If her lady was right, then Anakin couldn't be charming all of the time. Eventually, he'd have to show himself as he was.

* * *

"You're not dressed yet?" Anakin came into the room and to her. He was wearing formal Jedi garb. Why, Padmé thought. He can wear anything he wants now, so why does he cling to Jedi dress? 

Dormé was right behind him, making a noise of exasperation as she set her hands on her hips. "My lady, I won't have time to do your hair if you don't get dressed. You have to leave in ten minutes to be on time."

"I'll wear it down, Dormé. Nothing fancy, just a comb or two." It took a few minutes to convince Dormé to go on ahead of them and then Padmé turned her consideration back to the dress before her. Anakin had picked it out, spending long minutes going through her closet the previous night with Dormé at his side. They'd had a running commentary between them of what dress would best show off her belly.

After all, she needed to look her best for this interview.

The dress she was to wear would hide nothing. Her pregnant belly would be out for all to see and speculate on. Her heart made a lurching sensation in her chest as thoughts of her hard work keeping their secret swept her mind. The agony of remaining parted from her family for months at a time, the pain of keeping each pregnancy milestone to herself. It was all being ripped apart. By morning, the galaxy would know that Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo had married Anakin Skywalker in secret at the beginning of the war and was now very pregnant.

She could almost hear the trashier commentaries, those snide questions as to if Anakin was really the father. Why, everyone knew he'd been long out in the far reaches of the galaxy! How often had he really been to Coruscant?

No, she thought. This man would allow no such speculations to mar his triumph of this moment. The galaxy would know that she was his and his alone.

"I don't want to wear this dress."

"Why not?" He touched it. "It's beautiful."

"I just don't." She curved her hands over her belly, a movement he didn't miss.

"Are you ashamed of our babies?" He strove to appear wounded.

"Of course not," she replied. "I only spent months covering up the fact, not showing it off."

The dress was slipped from the hangar, held up. "You should be proud of it. Now put this on. I want everyone to see _my_ beautiful wife and the belly that holds our children. I want them all to see."

And envy. The unspoken desire he had. He wanted the galaxy to envy him.

His lips twitched. "That too."

Padmé raised her gaze in alarm, thinking she'd spoken aloud and finding him looking at her with that superior stare.

"Your thoughts are sometimes easy to discern, my love."

Frowning, she snatched the dress from him and dragged it on, not in the least bit pleased with how the material clung to her belly, making the swell of it appear larger than it was. She turned sideways, made a face at her reflection. Oh dear. Was it that large in reality? She glanced away, then back again. Couldn't be. Then again, she was beginning to feel like some sort of lumbering beast when she tried to walk. Her belly felt like it was increasing in size by the hour. The slightest misstep and she could easily be overbalanced.

Like my life, she thought. One wrong step...

"I don't like not telling my family first, Anakin." How would her mother react? She didn't want to consider it at all. They had to have known she was pregnant. How could they not? She'd only been fooling herself whenever she'd gone home. The thickening of her waist had to have been blindingly obvious to those who knew her best: her family.

But they'd let her have the illusion that she'd fooled them. Why? Who knew? They'd not said one word, likely deciding to let her tell them in her own way, in her own time. There was never a mention of babies or a comment that she was getting chubby. Even her nieces had not said one word, quite a feat for children.

Padmé recalled the single conversation she'd had with her sister on men since Anakin escorted her to Naboo the first time.

"So how is that Jedi boyfriend of yours?"

She'd been married only a few weeks at that point, still inclined to moon about when she thought about Anakin and Sola had caught her during one of those moments. "W-what," she'd replied, suddenly all thumbs, dropping the cup she'd been rinsing.

"Your Jedi boyfriend, Padmé," Sola laughed. "Anakin. Are you still seeing him? He was handsome." She sang the last word.

"Sola, he's a friend." An unconvincing sentence.

"Oh, of course he is." Her sister bumped her shoulder playfully. "A good friend?"

Padmé gave Sola her best cross look, to which Sola merely shrugged. "The Jedi don't love. They're not allowed to, not...romantically."

There'd been a smirk on Sola's lips. "Maybe. Anakin Skywalker is still human, Jedi or not. I don't doubt he's noticed you, but have you taken time yet to notice him?"

She'd rinsed the same cup two more times without setting it aside. "If I have?"

Sola's brow arched, her smirk turning soft. "Then I'm happy for you."

That had been the end of that single mention, Sola never again asking about Anakin. Padmé hoped her family would understand and perhaps some day she'd have a chance to ask them why they'd remained silent.

The knickknacks on the table lifted up and began to move in circles. "Yes, I'm well-versed in what _you_ don't like, what _you_ don't want. What of my wishes? Did you ever really consider what I wanted?"

"I'd say you've gotten your way far too much in the past few days as it is." The words flew from her lips before she even realized she'd said them. Padmé's breath paused in her throat, time slowing to a halt as she waited for that sure spark of his temper.

The knickknacks crashed to the floor, Anakin turning. His eyes were cold, mouth tight.

Instinctively, Padmé took a step back.

Anakin raised his hand, shaking a finger at her and laughing. "No, no, no. I see what you're trying to do. You think if you get me angry, you won't have to go. Wrong. You _are_ going with me. You'll stand at my side and we'll no longer be hiding. Everything out in the open. As it should be. Stop trying to make me angry. I'm not letting you stay here tonight. Get that idea straight out of your head."

Relief made her knees weak and she sank onto the bed. There were horrible moments like these peppering the past week, where she'd speak on impulse and the memory of him choking her would come tumbling back. So far, the incident hadn't been repeated, something always calming him before he reached that point in temper.

How long would that trend last?

She pressed trembling hands to her warm cheeks and willed her tongue to be wary when it could not remain silent. It wasn't wise to be rash. Her composure had to be regained and kept with rigid care.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 5

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Thanks to GemL for the terrific beta work.

* * *

Reporters loved it. Anakin Skywalker and the elusive, private Senator Padmé Amidala out in the open for questions. Padmé hadn't expected as many reporters as had arrived, nor had she expected Anakin to enjoy himself before them. If he'd been walking, he would have strutted about.

She said very little, claiming exhaustion from her condition and answering only when she had to. Anakin however, fairly waxed poetic in answer to all questions tossed his way, giving far more detail than she thought he should. He ignored her disapproval.

He'd avenged beloved Palpatine, remained the only loyal Jedi in the galaxy. And they adored him more than they previously had, a hero certainly for these times. Not only that, but he'd captured the heart of Senator Amidala, a private woman who strove to keep her private life from the public eye. Oh, how romantic!

Yes, she thought, Anakin is quite the heartthrob. Young girls everywhere were going to be swooning over him.

"Why make her a target any more than she had already been? I believe the Separatists would have tried again to kill Padmé had our marriage become common knowledge." He made their secret sound like some well thought out battle strategy to keep her safe as the war had raged on. "Of course, a few people did know. Sworn to secrecy."

Padmé kept a smile plastered on her face, that polite smile she'd had so much practice using in the Senate. Her 'official happy facade' Annie had called it. She put it to good use, masking her disapproval of his answers and of this interview. It wouldn't do to let her misgivings show, now would it?

"If not for the war and the regrettable treachery of my Jedi brethren," he continued, still spilling thoughts as fast as they formed in his head and not pausing to consider what he should say, "our marriage would never have been kept a secret. I kept my wife safe."

_He_ kept her safe. No, it wasn't any of her doing at all, she thought bitterly, recalling all the wild dancing about she'd had to do to keep the fact hidden. Toes she'd stepped on to spend time with him, flat out lies she'd uttered and those sudden personal evenings she'd given her staff. Not to mention the dancing Dormé, Moteé and Ellé had put on while Padmé and Anakin had slipped off together into the city. Or when they'd remained in the apartment. Her handmaidens hadn't liked hiding anymore than she or Anakin, but they'd risen to the challenge like they always had, determined to succeed.

She took a long look at the faces gathered about them without really seeing any of them. Only a few more days and she'd have Ellé and Moteé back with her. Padmé was going to be very glad to have them with her. At least they had not seen her when Anakin had brought her back. They had not witnessed her hysteria.

"I kept her safe," he repeated and Padmé suppressed a snort, turning her glance back up to his profile.

He turned his head to look at her and her heartbeat seemed to pause in her chest. "I love my wife," he said with a mischievous little curl of a grin. Her Annie looked out of this man's eyes.

Joy in that tickled through her veins and Padmé didn't even stop to consider her actions, being as rash and unrestrained as she thought him being. Raising on tiptoe, she slipped a hand behind his neck and nudged him to her, desperate to give her Annie a kiss before he slipped away once more. The kiss was sweet and all Annie, happiness and love and untainted innocence. Padmé nearly wept from it, uncaring that the galaxy watched.

Her Annie.

She gave a genuine smile as she lowered back flat footed, but as she watched, there was a shifting in his eyes and he was a stranger once more.

No! Oh no! Please Annie don't go! Don't leave me with _him_.

Padmé blinked and ducked her head to hide how quickly that sunny smile faded away to disappointment. The gesture would look shy, as though she was embarrassed by her own impetuousness. She heard laughs and whistles.

Anakin drew her closer. "As you can see, we haven't quite moved past the honeymoon stage yet."

Laughter and warm comments greeted his statement, the interview formally over.

Back in the apartment, she was treated to replay after replay of the interview until she wanted to scream from it.

"There was my Padmé. A bit shy, a bit bold and always beautiful. Not quite back to me yet, but I'm patient."

Patient? She gathered her robe to her, shooting an incredulous stare towards him. Anakin wasn't paying any attention however, too busy replaying that spontaneous kiss. Perhaps his distraction was a good thing, she reflected, touching her throat with one hand.

Patience was not Anakin's best trait and never had been. It never would be, in her opinion. Funny how something could be a trait one both loved and hated in a person. That impatience endeared him to her even as it irritated. She loved that he trusted his own judgment so well that he'd be moved into action. She hated that he couldn't temper that impatience with wisdom to know when to let others help.

A prime example was with Obi-Wan on the subject of their marriage. Padmé suspected the older man would have done everything he could to help them with the Jedi Council. Anakin had been too impatient to take the time to talk it out and go to his former Master. No, _he_ had to fix everything for them by himself. She reached for her cup and took a drink. As if by asking for help he'd be less of a man in her eyes.

She felt his gaze on her now and looked over at him again. He'd leaned back, arms stretched along the divan back, arrogance displayed on his features and in the pose of his body.

"You will come back to me. We'll be happy together. You, me and our babies."

She turned away without comment.

"Simple fact, my love. And that kiss you gave was perfect. You couldn't have timed it better."

The rest of the evening passed quickly, Anakin becoming involved in that strategy game he and Dormé liked to play in the evenings. They were equally matched in skill and as the game went on, Anakin's attention would fall solely to the game as he endeavored to win against his capable opponent. Padmé pretended to read, all the while keeping a critical gaze upon the man masquerading as her husband.

He honestly wasn't that good of an actor, nothing worthy of a holodrama or even a _holomelodrama_. No, Anakin was mediocre at best as an actor. What occurred, time and time again, was that those he spoke to misinterpreted his statements, gestures and motives. Doubtless he was also on occasion employing the Jedi mind trick as well, came a cynical voice in her mind.

So how was he continuously fooling Dormé, a usually astute judge of character and excellent bodyguard? A combination of things. Flat out lies and half-truths both aided by Padmé's own initial actions. She could see how her hysteria must have looked alongside Anakin's calm. And then there was flattery, with a bit of flirting mixed in. Dormé wasn't immune to either and Padmé had to admit that Anakin could be very charming when he chose to be.

He'd learned from the best, after all. Obi-Wan Kenobi had been a charming man, one she'd heard Ellé refer to as 'dashing'. He'd had courtly manners and Padmé wondered just how long it had really taken him to impress a diplomatic mien upon Anakin.

Anakin was teasing her friend right then, saying something low that had her laughing so hard she almost upset the game when she reached to move her piece. Padmé glanced back down at the novel she was pretending to read. If only he would throw a tantrum like he did when they were alone. If only he'd show Dormé the man he was.

She set the datapad aside and put her head in her hands. Emotion welled up in a steady rise, floodwaters pouring over her and she wept from the absurdity of wishing the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Padmé went to bed early and dreamed of death, pain-wracked fiery death reaching for her from all sides. There was no escape and although she knew she was dreaming, she couldn't wake herself, slipping time and again back into the same terrifying dream. She suffered it until Dormé shook her awake.

* * *

Dormé was awake early, before daylight began to lighten the Coruscant sky, looking down from the balcony and wondering where Ellé and Moteé were. They had been scheduled to arrive late the previous night, having taken the absolute latest transport back here in order to stay on Naboo a few hours longer. They should be relieving her from duty in an hour. She was ready for it too. Dormé needed some time away herself to reflect on the last couple weeks. Being on duty constantly was taking it's toll upon her. 

She felt her judgment was off, hampered by needing to be alert for danger to her lady each hour of each day. It was easier with all three of them there, taking turns with the brunt of their duties. She planned to spend two days sleeping, making up for the rest she didn't seem to be getting at night. Ever since Anakin had brought Padmé back from Mustafar, Dormé had not slept well.

Sympathy insomnia perhaps? She knew none of them were sleeping well. Padmé had nightmares and Anakin would prowl the apartment for hours before settling down to rest. Several mornings she'd come out to find him asleep on one divan, as though he'd sat down and passed out before he could drag himself into the bedroom.

Raising her cup to take a drink, she grimaced to find the hot liquid had gone cold and bitter as she'd stood there.

Before she relaxed, she was going to apprise them of the possible situation, tell them her lady's fears and insist they tread carefully around Anakin just in case. There had to be something she wasn't seeing and perhaps the three of them together could sort it out. Dormé couldn't just dismiss Padmé's fears, not when they only seemed to be strengthening. She swallowed the liquid and turned as Threepio came towards her.

"The transport landed hours ago," he informed her. "Records indicate both Ellé and Moteé were onboard."

"Thank you," she replied, beginning to worry. It wasn't like them to disappear like this. They took their duties as seriously as she did. They'd never go off like this without first contacting her or Padmé.

"I could check again," Threepio suggested. "The odds that the registry is wrong--"

Why not, she decided. Might as well double and triple check. "Go ahead." She returned to the balcony, peering down at the accident she'd noticed earlier, hoping there hadn't been fatalities. More accidents were happening each day, people growing careless in their driving. The air taxis had been taken away, but the scents of scorched metals remained heavy in the air. Dormé shivered though the air was quite warm. Something was wrong, there was no other explanation for their absence.

Less than an hour later, her intuition was proven correct.

She was shocked by the news, unable to wrap her mind around what she'd been told. Dormé ran through the apartment towards Padmé's bedroom, bursting through the doorway and into Anakin's waiting arms. He would have sensed her coming and she clutched at him, nails digging into his skin as she tried desperately to form the words.

"I have to wake her." Tears wet her face.

Anakin's features tightened, brows drawing down. "Let her sleep."

"I can't," she said in an urgent whisper. "She needs to know this now."

His hands moved from her back to her arms, tightening, the grip of his mechanical one hurting. She gasped, tried to pull away. He urged her backwards, into the hallway. Dormé's gaze flew over his shoulder to Padmé, still asleep in the bed, oblivious of the next drastic change about to run loose in her life.

"I said let her sleep." Annoyance rippled over his features, a quick shimmer and was gone. He released her, swallowed hard, lowering his gaze from hers. "I'm sorry, Dormé." Anakin's voice was contrite, one hand running through his hair. "She's been tossing and turning. This is the first time she's slept more than a few minutes at a time all night. Nightmares."

Dormé shook her head. There was no time for this. Her lady needed to know now. "Ellé and Moteé are dead, Anakin. They should have been here and they're not and I just found out why."

He blinked, studying her. After a moment, he stepped out of her way, leaning against the wall, head tipping back. "Wake her."

Dormé did.

* * *

It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or so they told her. Her handmaidens had been on their way to the apartment, right outside the building, when the air taxi they'd taken was hit by another air taxi. A malfunction. A freak accident that left them, their driver and the driver of the other vehicle dead. All were pronounced dead on the scene. 

Padmé did her duty, letting their families know and putting forth a brave face, just like she always did. Somehow, she got through the week after.

Too much dying, she thought, pressing a cool cloth to eyes that felt hot and gritty from constant tears. There was too much death in her life at present and she wondered how many more people close to her were going to die. Dormé perhaps? Her parents? Her sister and nieces?

Warm hands guided her to the bed, pressed her to lie down. She relinquished the cloth and found Anakin there with her, not Dormé. He tucked the covers about her, stroked his fingers along her cheek in a gesture he probably thought soothing. Padmé turned her face to the window, stared blankly at it. She didn't want to talk or think. Weariness ached her body.

It was all too much and she didn't think she could bear it.

"Do you need anything, Padmé," he asked.

"No," she whispered.

"Let me know if you do. Send Artoo for me. I'll be in the other room."

"Dormé...?" she began.

Anakin gave one of her hands a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about her. She's resting too. Her family is worried for her and she spent nearly an hour trying to calm them. It exhausted her, so I told her to rest."

He left and silence descended. Blessed silence. Padmé closed her eyes and found that she could not sleep. That state would not drag her under and comfortingly cradle her to it's breast.

This too will pass in time.

She stirred, opening her eyes, seeing no one. Artoo was near the door. Padmé sighed.

Let them go. Do not succumb to despair for your friends.

The voice was reassuring and gentle and Padmé rolled over in bed, the sheets twisting about her body. "I miss them," she whispered. "I want them back."

Much will happen in your life that you will not understand, Padmé. Some for the better and some for the worse. You will lose people dear to you, but you must go on. You must accept the loss and let them go. It isn't healthy to linger in pain. Doing so creates a festering wound inside.

There were rapid footsteps, Anakin appearing in the doorway, his eyes wide open and chest heaving. "Who's here with you? I can feel someone here."

The lights blazed on, Padmé shielding her eyes with one hand. Anakin searched the room, then sat beside her. He was uncertain, that emotion on his face. He blinked several times, gulped in a breath. His voice was hesitant. "I...felt someone here. It was a presence apart from yours. Familiar."

Padmé returned to her back. "It's just us," she whispered, placing a hand on his knee. "There's no one but us, Anakin. You, me and Dormé. Three people and no more."

Her hand was lifted away, dropped onto the bed. "I know that. Don't tell me what I already know. Tell me what I _don't_." His attention focused upon her. "What don't I know, Padmé?"

Not now, she pleaded with fate. Please don't let him start something now! I can't face it. I can't bear it.

"I felt a presence, Padmé. Explain it." He was yelling and Padmé expected Dormé to appear in the doorway, asking what was wrong. But Dormé didn't come and could not witness his irrational behavior, his insistence that there was someone here besides they three. There _was_ no one and could be no one without having gone by Anakin first.

"There's no one here, Anakin. You see that. Where would someone go? Out the window? It's intact. There's no one, so don't yell at me for something you couldn't have possibly felt."

"Couldn't possibly?" He stood. "You have no understanding of the Force do you? You have no idea what I can know." He held up his hands. "You have no idea the sort of power that I have." He set one knee on the bed, leaned over her. "No one is going to come in here and take you from me and I mean no one. Someone was here just now and I will find out how and why."

Padmé stared up at him. She felt impossibly helpless, a determination to beat back that feeling growing inside her. She was going to fight it.

His lower lip trembled and then he was sitting, sighing, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Padmé." He took her hand in his, thumb stroking tenderly. "I'll make this apartment secure for you. You'll be safe here. No presence that shouldn't be here, no one at all who shouldn't be here. You, me, Dormé and when they come, our babies. No one else." Anakin pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Now you rest. Rest will help. I'll wake you in a bit."

She sleepwalked through a few more days, half in and half out of a waking state, her mind not truly on anything she set out to do. Returning to the apartment, she and Dormé found Anakin asleep on one divan. Padmé sat down across from him as Dormé left to finish their errands.

Their roles were mixed up. Hers and Anakin's. He'd reversed them, keeping her off-balance and unable to gain an upper hand in their verbal exchanges. She ended up seeming irrational while he retained the calm she'd once had.

He was flat on his back, one knee raised, resting against the divan back and the occasional soft snore left him. In quiet moments such as this, when the hardness faded from his features in relaxation, Padmé could see her Annie. She fancied she could even feel Annie rising to the surface in Anakin.

A slight smile turned her lips and she rubbed her belly absentmindedly. Ridiculous, wasn't it, to think such an absurd thing?

_No,_ came a voice in the silence_, Not ridiculous, Padmé. It's a very apt way to put it._

She sighed and Anakin stirred.

He breathed in, stretched and turned his head, blinking sleepily. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, blossoming forth. "You're back."

"For some time now," she replied.

He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. "You should have woken me."

A rush of tender feeling swept her. How many times had he woken to her watching him and vice-versa? "I didn't want to disturb you. You looked tired."

"I still don't sleep well." Anakin studied her, raised up a little to peer about the room. "Who's with you?"

"Dormé was here, but she went to finish errands. I was too tired to continue, so we came back."

"Mmm." He returned to his previous position, a puzzled turn to his brow that didn't last long. "Well, tell me everything. Tell me how our friend Bail Organa is doing. Leave out the boring political details. Did he mention his wife?"

A pointed question. She had yet to ascertain what his thoughts were on Bail. Any meeting she had with the man was discussed in detail, Anakin drawing Dormé into the conversation as though to validate what Padmé told him. To make sure she spoke the truth. "He did mention her. Breha is well. He asked if we four could have a meal together when Breha comes to Coruscant next month."

Anakin pushed himself to sitting, swinging his legs over the side of the divan. "Really? That would be good for us, Padmé. Both he and his wife are well thought of. Tell him we accept the invitation."

Padmé nodded and carefully pushed herself to standing, holding her hands out for balance before she made her way to the bedroom. "I'm going to change and work for awhile." Soon, she was deep in her work, pausing occasionally to stretch her back.

* * *

She was his. 

Vader watched Padmé as she worked. She had Threepio helping her and was caught up in whatever she was doing. Her hair was down, as he liked it, loosely flowing over her shoulders and cascading in soft curls down her back. The drawstring neckline of her gown was wide and low. As he watched, one side slipped down her shoulder, baring it.

Well, she was going to be his, as much as she had been Anakin's. More so in the end, for he -- Vader -- was here every day to guide her into what she should be.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the coming day when she would finally release the past into oblivion where it belonged. He pictured her embracing their future together, at last seeing the possibilities of their ruling this galaxy. It was going to be wonderful and she was already halfway there.

Her frustrations about the Senate were growing and as she slowed her daily pace, he could see her separating herself from this life. Soon, she'd notice the things they two could accomplish as rulers. All the people who'd wronged her could be dealt with. The things that frustrated her about the Senate would be fixed. He'd see to that. After all, his Empress deserved her galaxy to be right and just. That goal was the same as her goal in the Senate.

Reaching for right, fighting for fairness and justice.

It was the same goal, only in their galaxy, there'd be no squabbling over what was right, fair and just. They'd decree what was so and if people didn't fall into line, then they'd take their punishment. Fair. There'd be no arguing over fate. What was right was right and what was wrong was wrong. There was no shade of gray. One or the other.

People loved Padmé, the evidence was there in history. She was going to make a beautiful Empress, the standard of beauty for women throughout the galaxy. Already, Vader could see her on a throne, dressed as she pleased, without those silly clothes she'd had to wear as Queen of Naboo, and no ugly make-up on her perfect skin. She'd be dressed as she pleased, her serene beauty--

"Anakin!"

He registered Padmé trying to get his attention and opened his eyes. "What, my love?"

"Isn't...the Emperor expecting you?" She always paused before saying Palpatine's title, as though saying his name would contaminate her. He should stop her, force her to say it properly, but it amused him too much.

Vader stood and moved to the window. "He cancelled. He said that with all of the tragedies you're going through, I should remain close to you. I should be here for you in your grief. A shoulder to cry on after dear Ellé and Moteé's quite unfortunate accident."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her sit back, heard her ask Threepio to go. Poor See-Threepio, he thought. Dismissed from the room any time anyone wished to have a conversation. He imagine Threepio and Artoo were as unhappy as droids could be with that turn. They were no longer privy to everything that went on anymore.

"Anakin, do you ever wonder if he had something to do with the accident?"

Vader blinked, turning to find her staring at him, quite serious in the ludicrous query. He gave a disbelieving laugh. "Why would he do that? What were they to him? Think about that Padmé. What were they? They were nothing."

"They weren't nothing," she argued with a sniffle. "They were living, breathing women."

"I meant to _him_, Padmé. Calm yourself." He rolled his eyes, impatient with these weepy moments that came upon her. "They meant nothing to him, I assure you. He is sympathetic for your loss and of your emotional state."

"Is he?"

Vader crossed his arms. "Of course he is. Why else would he suggest that your husband take time away from his new duties to tend to you?"

"Tend to me," she returned, shaking her head. "I can see to myself. I'm a grown woman, Anakin."

"I know that, my love. But you do need me. Whether you'll be adult and admit it or not. You need me more each day."

Padmé went quiet and he had the notion that she'd suddenly grasped a truth previously out of her reach. She turned her face away. "I need you," she whispered, then licked her lips and reached for a datapad. "I have to finish these reports. Would you get me something to drink please?"

She needed him. Padmé had finally acknowledged it. He went in search of refreshments, giving her time to think on that, to let it become firm in her mind. One more hurdle was jumped. Yes, she was going to be his and soon.

* * *

You need me more each day.

Of course, Padmé realized. That's what was happening. There was far more going on here than she'd thought. This went beyond Anakin's plans for them and into other territory completely. She was being made dependant upon him and wasn't sure if it was his doing or Palpatine's or even a bit of both.

The security measures Anakin had stepped up about the apartment were his, but the accident? With Ellé and Moteé gone, she was left with him and Dormé for companionship. He'd already compromised her trust in Dormé. What would be next? Her heart sinking, she outlined several other avenues that could be taken to solidify her dependence upon him and take away her freedom to act.

I have to get out of here. I have to leave before this apartment becomes my prison.

Her hands touched her belly. But it was too late to go now. She was too ungainly from pregnancy, unable to move with the quickness she'd need. She'd already tarried too long. How soon before the darkness inside Anakin eclipsed them both?

Outside the window, Coruscant twilight was tinged a deep red as night descended.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 6

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

**Notes: Thanks to GemL for the beta. Any errors are mine, not hers.**

* * *

He was alone in the Temple, Padmé knew that. Anakin was the only one who ever went there. Why? Did he go out of a guilty conscience? Or because even though he'd made it a place of violence, there was still something soothing for him in its halls? 

She walked the corridors, her once graceful walk turned into a slow waddle, making her way about the Jedi Temple with Dormé trailing along behind her. Padmé tried not to dwell on the reason she'd come to seek him out midday. She had to keep looking forward in order to see a way from the cage being settled about her. They did not hurry because there was no reason to. She'd known this day would come eventually. It was a foregone conclusion once she'd realized she was being manipulated into vulnerability. It had to happen.

Padmé felt peace here, no lingering echoes of the violence that had occurred. The Temple was a welcoming place, a refuge. Even she could sense that.

After nearly half an hour, they found him in one large room. He was practicing with his lightsaber, going through a complex series of movements that were so fluid they appeared a graceful dance. Alone. No opponent blocked him, egged him on with friendly banter.

She tilted her head, considering him. Did he miss having a sparring partner for this? Did he miss Obi-Wan at all? Or had he buried him in memory, never to be thought of again?

Suddenly, Anakin stopped and straightened, back to her.

Did he regret those choices he'd made? Was she going to regret hers?

Anakin turned his head, not quite looking over his shoulder at her. "What are you doing here, Padmé?"

"Can't a wife look for her husband," she countered.

"Depends on why she's looking for him," was the dry response. Now he turned, deactivating his lightsaber and attaching it to his belt as he strode towards her. "Could it possibly be for a wanting of my company? Have you chosen by free will to come into my presence?" There was a cynical turn to his brow. "No, I suspect otherwise." His hands raised, cupped her face. "You shouldn't have come here."

"Why not?"

The question was ignored, his hands moving now, to her shoulders and down her arms. "Why are you looking for me at this time of day? Don't you have Senatorial duties you should be seeing to?" A glance was slanted towards Dormé, who retreated back into the hallway in slow steps, giving them privacy to speak.

Padmé blinked. Hadn't Palpatine told him of Queen Apailana's decision? She'd thought for certain Palpatine had told him, that that was the reason Anakin been almost loving the past couple days. She looked down towards the floor, or rather where it would be if her stomach didn't block the view. "My duties as Senator are limited as of the interview we gave, Anakin. I'm not going to be allowed to continue serving. By next year, I'll no longer be a Senator."

He released her, blinking several times. "Why," he demanded.

Did he honestly not know? Had he ever listened to her at all?

"You're fully capable of serving _and_ being a wife and mother. Other Senators do it. Why remove you from it?"

"Our marriage is not the issue in her decision, nor is my pregnancy. I hid things. That is the issue. I lied to my Queen, to the Jedi, to my family, to everybody. What sort of example am I now to the people of Naboo? They look at me and see deceit. Had I discovered such a thing when I was Queen, my actions would have been far less lenient than hers. She's giving me time to tie up loose ends, to show my replacement what needs to be finished. She's within her rights to demand I step down immediately."

"Well, she's wrong," he yelled. "You're the best woman to happen to the planet, to this galaxy. To ask you to step down, to order you... It's an _insult_. She can't do that to you. I won't let her."

"Anakin calm down." He was working himself up over something she'd already come to grips with, over something he'd _wanted_. She'd known full well Anakin had dreamed of her resigning as Senator and spending her time with him. So why was he now angry over it happening? Shouldn't he be overjoyed? At the same time, shouldn't he have known she could be dismissed by her Queen? His outburst confused her and Padmé hastened to say something to calm him. "I'll be able to devote more time to our babies when they come. That's a good thing, yes?"

He stilled at her lilted 'yes' in question. His stare was uncertain at first, then grew in confidence as he warmed to the thought. "Of course it's a good thing, my love, but at the expense of your political career? I know how very much your career means to you." A raised brow to punctuate the statement.

"Perhaps my priorities should change," she whispered.

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But only momentarily. When we take the throne," he began, then shook his head as though to banish that train of thought. "Is that the reason you came, to tell me of her decision?"

"No." Padmé glanced toward the hallway and back at him. Though expecting this maneuver she had to discuss, it still disturbed her. "My accounts. I asked Dormé to purchase a few items for me and she had to use credits from her own account. The merchant was unable to take payment from mine."

He took a step back, then another, that infuriatingly condescending expression taking root and blossoming. She could swear she saw satisfaction there as well. "I am sorry about that Padmé. I'll see Dormé is reimbursed."

"_You'll_ see? I should see to it. They're my accounts. It never should have happened in the first place and when I asked about the problem, I was told to talk to my _husband_." She snorted. "As though I've not been handling my own accounts for years."

Anakin turned, striding across the room away from her. Padmé followed, stretching a hand out in an attempt to grab his shirt and missing.

"What is this about, Anakin? _Answer me_!"

He whirled. "Was that an order, Padmé? Because you're not in a position to order me."

"Tell me what's going on," she insisted, ignoring the prickle of unease at her neck.

His arms crossed over his chest. "The Delegation. The two thousand. Remember that?"

"What about it?" Her mind had already grasped the situation. Desperately, she hoped she was wrong, that she wasn't being punished for honest concerns and action.

"Until the Emperor is certain of your loyalty, your accounts have been transferred to my control. Purchases must be approved before you will have access to the credits."

"He can't do that," she protested.

"He already has. I'll need to see the purchases and then I'll transfer the credits to Dormé's account."

"That's not right!"

"Isn't it, my love? I'd say he has every right to freeze assets until he's certain of loyalty, yours included." She was speechless at that and he continued. "It's temporary, Padmé. I'll convince him of your loyalty and it will all work out."

She back away, shaking her head. "Am I the only one?"

"Of course not. Bail Organa has already been cleared and a few of the others. It won't take long before you're cleared as well."

What better way to curtail movements of possible dissenters than to freeze their accounts? No access to credits meant no way to pay for anything. "This is not right and you know it."

"How isn't it right? You're not destitute. You still have access through me, which is more than others have. You know, you're lucky you're my wife. I will take care of you."

That's what she was afraid of. Without answering, Padmé whirled, fleeing as fast as she could and almost stumbling twice in her haste. Anakin didn't try to stop her. Why would he? He knew he could continue the conversation in the apartment later if he chose. And he would continue, if it suited him to do so.

* * *

Poor, poor Padmé. She must be feeling panicked right about now, all sealed off in her penthouse apartment with one friend left and no funds to get her anywhere. Soon, she'd learn of her loss of her ship as well. Poor, poor Padmé. No one to turn to, no place to run. 

Palpatine listened to Vader's concerns about her with only half an ear. His plans for her were going rather well, moving much faster than he'd anticipated. He was also pleased that Vader had Dormé well in hand, using the handmaiden to spy on Padmé. She was cooperating, completely under Vader's control.

Perhaps. The boy certainly seemed to think so, yet Palpatine knew Dormé to be a particularly strong-willed bodyguard. She was the most loyal of those handmaidens Padmé had employed and it was a pity she hadn't been the one to perish in the accident. Vader needed to keep a close watch on her as well as Padmé or he was going to find the tables turned. Dormé was not stupid, nor would she be charmed by Vader for much longer.

Vader hadn't the ability to keep her that way and wouldn't for a long while. His skills were still piddling compared to Palpatine's own talents. Vader wasn't as adept as he thought he was, but then Palpatine could use that pride and arrogance against him, keeping him in line.

He glanced at Vader, disgusted to see still so much of Anakin remaining. Really, Vader needed a strong push now and then to break down what was left of Anakin. It was almost as though Anakin was putting up a fight, giving Vader a conscience. That had to be stopped and quickly.

"She needs a firm hand," he suggested, cutting off whatever whining the boy was doing now. "She needs guidance. Too long, Padmé was left to run her own life. Obviously she cannot cope. She has gotten herself removed as a Senator. What other proof is needed of her incompetence with running her life? The only right thing she has done is to marry you."

Vader leaned forward, eagerly taking in the words. Palpatine suppressed a grin. Vader was too easy to manipulate, just as Anakin had been. "She's not incompetent." He didn't sound sure of that, however. "Padmé is very capable --"

"Perhaps that was too harsh a word," Palpatine amended. "She has, without question, made a mess of her life. Look at it, my boy."

The young man before him gave a slow nod, licking his lips. "She has made a mess of her life," he agreed.

"You will give her the guidance she needs, show her how to behave in a manner befitting the wife of a Sith."

"I will guide her."

Palpatine smiled. "Good, good. Now until you can manage to do so without botching the job, leave me and make yourself useful elsewhere. I have important matters to attend to."

Vader flinched. A spark of anger glittered in his eyes as he stood. "As you wish, my Master."

When Vader had gone, he chuckled. Hate and ire brought Anakin so much closer to disappearing forever. Someday, he'd look in Vader's eyes and see nothing left of Anakin.

* * *

Make yourself useful.

Vader stalked along a walkway outside the Senate building, ignoring the startled glances sent his way. A smirk turned his lips as droids and pedestrians hurried to remove themselves from his path. His glance fell upon a walkway a little higher up. He slowed his strides.

On that stretch, was a humanoid Senator quite vocal in her criticisms of Padmé. Not just on Padmé's political policies, but on her as a woman. She belittled Padmé, said that Padmé had been too caught up in dallying with a Jedi to do her duty as a Senator. She'd called his beautiful, talented, intelligent wife negligent of duty, corrupt and void of virtue. His eyes narrowed. It was jealousy of course. What else could it be? That woman up there wished to be everything his Padmé was, have everything his Padmé had.

His Padmé.

Vader's smirk widened into a grin as he let his regard fall to the area below that walkway. No one was beneath it and there was nothing of particular value there.

Padmé was becoming his, the process running smoothly along and soon, her silly memories of who he had once been would fade from her mind. Once she fully grasped what he did for her at every turn, she'd come running into his arms. She'd greet him with unrestrained kisses and a new enthusiasm for the life he had planned for them.

Once she realized the full power available to her through him.

He watched the woman on the walkway, that jealous Senator, saw her speaking to three aides. Vader glanced up and down the walkway he was on and reached out with the Force.

No one criticized his Padmé.

The upper walkway came tumbling down in a deafening crash. Screams erupted from pedestrians and Vader walked on, head high and shoulders back, relaxed as though out for a casual stroll.

There. He felt much better now. Even Palpatine's dismissal no longer stung. Eventually, Palpatine would also pay for his comments on Padmé. But not yet. Vader still had much to learn about running an Empire and he planned to know it inside and out before dispatching his current Master into death's arms.

* * *

Thalia Makan was not a Senator Padmé cared for. The woman was haughty and cruel and petty to the extreme. She was the sort to support a movement if it wounded someone she considered an enemy. She excelled in underhanded tactics and kept company with the loudest of Palpatine's supporters. Not someone Padmé considered a friend. 

Nevertheless, news of Thalia's sudden death had shaken her.

She left her office early and found Anakin in the apartment. He was lying on their bed, hands beneath his head and ankles crossed, gaze flicking to her when she entered. He said nothing, watching her put away her cape, then following her into the living area.

"A Senator was killed today," she told him.

He settled into a chair, gave a polite nod. "What happened?"

"A walkway outside the Senate collapsed. All four people were killed instantly. They were crushed."

"That's terrible."

He didn't sound as though he thought it terrible, beginning to set up the game he and Dormé liked to play.

"I'm going to beat her tonight," he murmured. "Dormé's winning streak is at an end. I've figured out her usual strategies now." In seconds he had it ready and sighed. "She says _you_ taught this game to her, Padmé. I'd like to play against you one of these days."

She returned to the subject at hand, ignoring his attempt to change the topic. "No one seems able to explain how the walkway collapsed. It was sound. It shouldn't have collapsed like it did. It could have happened at anytime, to anyone. It could have been me up there."

"Not you. Never you."

She stared at him, studying his profile. He was too cheerful, smug over something. Anakin sat back, stretched his long legs out, half turning in the chair.

"What do you think she thought right then?"

She? A terrible suspicion began in her mind. She'd never mentioned whether the Senator was male or female. "Who?"

"The Senator. When she fell. What do you think went through her mind? Did she know she was going to die? Did she have time to know it?"

Padmé's breath paused in her chest. "I never said it was a woman."

His eyes were cool, triumph lurking there in the blue depths. Anakin tilted his head against the tall back of the chair. After too long a moment to convey true innocence, he gestured with one hand to the holoprojector. "It was the subject of news reports. A little while ago."

A reasonable explanation, but she didn't even try to believe him. Anakin had caused Thalia Makan's death. Padmé knew it as certainly as she knew her own name.

He heaved another sigh, this one impatient. "Why are you so upset about it anyway? She hated you, Padmé. If it had been you, I assure you she'd have shed no tears."

"That's not the point, Anakin. A woman died today and I knew her."

Anakin's shoulders lifted in a tiny unconcerned shrug. His head turned towards the lift. "Dormé's on her way up."

Dormé entered from the lift a moment later, her arms burdened by packages. "Hello? Would someone help me? These are heavy."

Padmé gaped at him as he moved to help the woman. He didn't feel on bit of sorrow for the loss of a living being. She'd thought a Jedi would at least pause in respect for the passing of a life; would express some sort of feeling for that passing. Anakin didn't.

He's not a Jedi though, is he, her mind whispered. Not anymore. He's become a Sith, a man steeped in darkness. He no longer feels things the way he used to.

Her lower back ached and she rubbed at it with a grimace. The ache was constant these past few days and she'd discovered a new inability to sit still. Every position she stood, sat and laid in was uncomfortable and Padmé wondered why no one ever mentioned the aches and pains that went with being pregnant.

Dormé drew her a warm bath and helped her into it. Padmé relaxed in the soothing water. If possible, her movements were growing more clumsy by the day and she was heartily tired of being pregnant. Half the time she could barely lever herself from a sitting position to a standing one and she was beginning to forget what her own feet looked like. Belly blocked her view.

She soaked until she felt waterlogged and when Anakin came to help her out, she didn't mention that her back still ached. What would he possibly be able to do about it? His hands lingered when drying her and pulling on her nightgown, but she was too tired to draw away. His strong arms lifted her, carried her to bed and he tucked her beneath the covers with a gentle kiss to her lips.

Padmé did not remember what she dreamed or if, indeed, she dreamed at all.

* * *

He still had nightmares. 

Anakin lay beside Padmé, sweat dampening the sheets beneath him, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. He still dreamed of her death in childbirth. The thought of losing her now, right when she was returning to him, paralyzed him with fear. He couldn't lose her. He'd done too much to save her to lose her in the end.

Don't worry, his thoughts soothed. You're powerful now, more so than even a week ago. You'll save her.

He gulped in a breath as though it was liquid and he thirsted. Beside him, Padmé stirred and Anakin was spurred to movement, scrambling to her side of the bed. He nuzzled his head to her breasts, one arm curving protectively about her belly. His tears wet her gown.

Padmé shifted, her hand grazing his bare back, resting on his arm. When her voice came, it was husky from sleep. "Anakin? What--?"

"Don't leave me," he murmured, breathing in the scents of Naboo wildflowers that coated her skin. Her favorite perfume, the same one that teased his dreams, bringing back memories of the meadow they'd once picnicked in. "Please, Padmé, don't leave me. Don't leave me alone here."

One month. She was due in one month.

Anakin slipped back in deep slumber, still curled protectively about his wife. He didn't wake again until dawn and then, it was Vader who opened his eyes.

* * *

Padmé remained awake the rest of the night. Her hands stroked his back, his arm, his hair and his face. 

Come back to me Annie, she thought. Come back to me and I won't have to go.

Sadness made her weep, her cries were silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 7

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Thanks to GemL for the beta work. And thank you to those who've taken the time to review these chapters. You're comments mean a lot to me.

* * *

Palpatine seethed with rage, hands fisted at his sides. He stared out his office window, watching yet not seeing the traffic. Who did Vader think he was, striking out like that? Presuming he could wound Palpatine of all people. He hated losing Thalia Makan. The woman had been instrumental in several little plots he'd had moving forward and her loss set his plans back. He hated having to find someone else to use when Thalia had been perfect. A waste of a nicely corrupted Senator. 

How to make Vader pay for that death and realize his error?

He took several long deep breaths, eyes slipping shut, his mind calming, working through this problem and the myriad solutions that presented themselves. Ten, twenty courses of action, but which one would cause anguish to rise in Vader? Which one would push Anakin that much further from Vader? Which punishment fit the crime?

His eyes opened, lips stretching into a satisfied smirk. Of course. There were many systems that needed a reminder of who they were loyal to. Send Vader. Orders to kill those who refused to cooperate. All who refused to cooperate. Soldiers, men, women, children. Everyone. Make an example of cities, regions and entire planets.

Vader wanted to kill and so he shall. He would kill for the Empire.

Calmed now, Palpatine turned almost cheerfully from the window and sat at his desk. And now, to solve the problem of losing Thalia.

Oh, of course. He'd have to be patient, but then, when wasn't he?

* * *

Anakin had come to meet her for an evening meal out. He'd insisted that she have a night out despite her protests that she'd rather just go back to the apartment and sleep for the next two days. Padmé tried to finish the last few items on her list for the day with Anakin watching her. For once though, he didn't seem impatient with her working. 

"I approve of Bail Organa as an acquaintance," he said, stepping around behind her, his hands on her shoulders kneading. Despite herself, knots of tension disappeared under the sure touch. He could still work the tension from her shoulders and back, her true husband or not. He nudged her forward, sliding his hand down to reach the ever aching place on her lower back.

Padmé made a noise of pleasure as the ache lessened, leaning further, wondering what had possessed her to push herself today. She'd been awake so long in the night after Anakin had woken her that she was already exhausted and to stay here working as long as she had was crazy. She'd felt driven however, a need within her to accomplish as much as she could today.

"He's loyal and I believe Emperor Palpatine will take any friendships you have into consideration when he finally makes a decision regarding your accounts."

She didn't bother becoming excited about the prospect of having her accounts back in her control. It wasn't going to happen. Not just because of Palpatine, but because of Anakin. He was so caught up in doing what he thought was right for her that he wasn't going to give up control and let the accounts go. Like Palpatine and those emergency powers once granted to him, Anakin wasn't going to step back. He thought it was best that he had control and so with him it would stay.

The dictatorship brought home into her personal life.

Of course Anakin would approve of Bail as a friend. Bail was the husband of a queen and was himself an influential Senator, held in great esteem by many. Anakin was becoming more concerned with appearances as the days went by, greedily wanting more status symbols. He wanted them to move to a bigger, more opulent apartment, to dine with influential people, to begin living within the means they could afford. Padmé was well paid as a Senator and her accounts reflected her wise use of her credits over the years. They were certainly not destitute. He wanted to spend the credits as he pleased.

And he did.

Anakin was not content with life as it was even an hour ago. He wanted more, that unending always pulsing _need_ that pulled at him until she wondered if their love would ever have be enough for him. It had begun that way, but would it always have ended up twisted about?

It saddened her immensely to realize that this trait was deeply ingrained in him.

I want more and I know I shouldn't.

Wasn't that what he'd once told her?

"Organa is a good influence, he and his wife both. I'm looking forward to meeting Breha. She sounds like a lovely woman. It's nice to see a man so much in love with his wife, don't you agree?"

The ache persisted, returning full force, and Padmé grunted, setting aside the last datapad she'd picked up. The ache localized and her lower belly contracted, rippling pain that took the breath from her. Her mouth opened. Her palms went flat on her desk, fingers spread out. She panted.

Anakin was immediately kneeling beside her, on his knees, putting a hand on her belly, voice concerned. "Padmé?"

"It's too early," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. She didn't want to see the stranger, not now, but she had to trust this man to see she was cared for. She had to...

Her Annie looked up at her, his hand stroking, soothing. "We can do this, Padmé. We're going to be fine." He gave her a small smile, the one that always made her believe he was right. They were going to be fine. Her Annie was here.

A whimper left her. She was afraid to move, to breath. Afraid that if she closed her eyes, her Annie would disappear. But she had to close her eyes, sobbing, then screaming. She couldn't hold in her cries.

He took charge as though this was a battle to be won, shouting out orders to her staff, seeing that she was taken to where she needed to be. By the time the pains were constant, Padmé was ready for it all to end. Anakin's fingers caressed her brow and he held her hand.

A glance confirmed he was still her Annie and she squeezed his hand, happy he was here with her at this moment. "Anakin, I love you."

More pain than Padmé had ever imagined there could be tore through her, ripping her in two.

* * *

Too soon. 

Anakin stood by his wife, trying to be reassuring and comforting to her when he was trembling inside. He could feel himself becoming lightheaded and had to remind himself to breathe. His fear for her and their children was a tide rising slowly, despite his efforts at calm. He swallowed hard. It was going to happen wasn't it? Now was the time.

No, it won't happen. These facilities are the best on Coruscant. She has the best care. Nothing is going to happen.

But he wasn't so certain of that.

He paused in touching her brow to wipe the sweat from his own. Sweat everywhere. He was drowning in it, clothes damp from it. His fingers shook wildly and Anakin had to clench his jaw tight to keep his lower lip from trembling. Images from his dreams flashed before his eyes, swam out to greet him.

Padmé, his sweet, lovely wife, was going to die and he wasn't strong enough to save her. He didn't even know how he'd go about it. Out of all the things he could do now with his new abilities, he still didn't know how he'd save her if something went wrong.

"Anakin," she said, glancing at him with a gentle smile. "I love you."

That was in his dream. Alarm rippled through him, held him in a tight, crushing embrace. It was happening like in his dream. No. Oh no. He heard her begin to scream...

Fear eclipsed him and he was sucked under it's tide, tumbled about the merciless waves.

When that tide receded, Vader was there, continuing to touch Padmé's brow and hold her hand. It was his right hand she grasped, the mechanical one. If it had been the flesh and blood one, he suspected her grip would have broken something. Dispassionately, he watched as she screamed and breathed, pushed and cried, waiting to see if this was indeed her end.

The first child was born. A smirk tugged his lips. A boy. He had a son.

The second child was born. A girl. As he'd seen in Padmé's medical records.

Healthy and wailing, both children. Padmé's grip lessened, slackened, but she was alive as well, turning her gaze to him, her sunny smile fading to solemnity as she stared into his eyes. Vader glanced at the babies. They needed names. He'd considered names for awhile now and he had the perfect ones picked out.

* * *

Padmé opened her mouth to name them. The names she'd chosen would have pleased her Annie with the symbolism. Luke for the boy, meaning light. Their love had been a light in both their lives, a hope for a future together. Leia for the girl, meaning meadow. That day in the meadow had fully tipped her heart towards him, though she hadn't admitted it at the time. 

She'd planned on discussing the names with him, but with Anakin not being himself, the opportunity had never risen.

She was already too late. Anakin was speaking, naming their children himself.

"Shmi for the girl, to remember my mother and...Anakin for the boy, after me. We'll call him Annie."

What could she do but nod consent? It wasn't like she could argue his naming of them without talking to her first since she'd been about to do the same thing. Shmi and little Annie. Her children.

Shmi was placed in her arms and Padmé's joy could not be taken from her even by the presence of this stranger. She held the tiny baby, marveling at how very small she was. Such a precious bundle in her arms. Padmé ran a finger over the little face. Shmi had Anakin's jaw, that determined set, and Padmé recognized the shape of her own eyes.

"Hello there Shmi," she whispered. The child sighed, snuggled to her and Padmé remembered reading somewhere that a newborn baby knows the sound of its mother's voice. She turned her head in time to see Annie being placed in Anakin's arms.

The baby was quiet, not making the same contented murmurs Shmi was making. Anakin looked down at him, the strangest wary expression on his face. It looked as though he couldn't make up his mind whether to smile or scowl. Padmé's heart contracted at the sight of the little baby held against him. She'd imagined Anakin holding their children so many times. The reality was unreal to her. She saw his stiff posture begin to relax, a gentle smile blossoming forth, tentative reaches of her Annie to consciousness. But then little Annie let out a scream and would not stop. The cries were piercing.

Anguish rolled across Anakin's face, his shoulders bowing, arms holding the child out. Tension returned to him. "Take him," he said, thrusting the baby back at the medical droid. The process was repeated, Padmé now taking little Annie and Anakin reaching for Shmi.

Shmi began wailing before he even touched her. He drew his hands back, eyes darting between the two children. His mouth opened and closed several times, his head shaking.

Anakin fled the room.

Padmé turned her eyes to the boy she now held. He was quiet for her, as Shmi had been. This boy looked like Anakin. She could see her husband in the face. Padmé sighed and handed her son back to the medical droid.

She was tired and needed to rest.

* * *

Padmé was home, a basinet for each baby set up in their bedroom. Anakin knew she planned for the twins to eventually be put in the small room down the hall that had been Ellé's. She'd already made plans for the room, though the plans weren't nearly as elaborate as he'd have thought. She wanted simplicity for them. A change from the apartment itself. A few toys, things like that. 

No new apartment for them, he guessed. She wanted to remain here.

Padmé was sleeping now, trying to get in some rest after being awake long hours with the twins. Dormé was currently carrying Shmi about in the main room as though she'd never seen a baby before in her life. She made cooing noises at Shmi, which seemed somewhat silly to Anakin, but Shmi appeared to like it, quiet in her arms.

Little Annie was asleep in his basinet. Anakin's gaze caressed the baby, lingered on features he'd decided had more of Padmé in them than himself. His son. He tilted his head to the side. Both children looked like Padmé in his opinion. Shmi was a copy of her mother, outspoken in her displeasure of anything, and Annie... The boy appeared to have Padmé's slow simmering temper. Of course, time would tell what the babies were really like. He stood over the basinet for long minutes more before going to sit at Padmé's side as she slept.

Padmé hadn't needed saving. His dream had just been a dream. Dreams pass in time, Obi-Wan had once told him and this time, he'd been right. This dream had passed without coming to fruition.

What have I done?

The thought was barely completed when another arose in it's place.

You did what was right for her.

He warmed to that thought. He had, hadn't he? He'd done what was right to save her even if he hadn't needed the powers to save her right then. Right then. Perhaps the danger to her wasn't past yet. Perhaps the dream only meant that there was danger to her, not that she was going to die in a specific way. He'd have to keep a close watch on her, make certain she was out of any and all dangers.

"I won't lose you, Padmé," he said, reaching out to straighten the covers over her.

Vader stood and went in search of Dormé for their nightly strategy game. She'd be distracted by the baby and he looked forward to taking advantage of that distraction. One win was as good as another.

* * *

Motherhood was not what Padmé had expected. It was late nights awake at all hours and little sleep during the day while trying to attend to everyday tasks. She had help from Dormé, thankfully. Without Dormé she didn't think she'd have been able to cope with twins. She hoped they'd begin sleeping through the night quickly and knew that the hope was a futile one. Padmé well remembered Sola's moans over her own children's sleep habits. 

Padmé considered Shmi and Annie in turn. Already their personalities were showing through. Shmi was fiery tempered and Padmé would almost swear Shmi had an independent streak a planet wide. She was always in motion, even when asleep. Annie on the other hand was calmer. He would settle down in Padmé's arms and stare up at her with solemn eyes. He took longer to show displeasure, never the one to scream when hungry or when he needed changing. When he did let loose a howl, Padmé knew something was really wrong.

One week of motherhood and she could already see which child had inherited the traits she and Anakin carried.

The children quieted whenever Anakin stepped into the room, as though they sensed a dangerous predator in their presence and knew the need for caution. That quiet however, lasted only as long as he didn't try to pick them up or touch them.

Shmi screamed in Anakin's arms, her face turning bright red. She'd screamed so hard the previous night that she'd made herself throw up, which hadn't improved Anakin's increasingly foul mood any. He'd held Shmi out, her little body dangling from his hands, and shoved her towards Dormé, who'd taken her with a sympathetic turn to her brow.

Little Annie would whimper and twist about. Like now. Anakin's frustration was palpable in the air. He tried everything he could think of to calm Annie to no avail. The boy would not settle down like he did for Padmé. Carefully, he laid him in the basinet Dormé had brought out from the bedroom.

Padmé nursed Shmi and watched Anakin begin to pace, anger and hurt on his features. He paced until Shmi slowed in her feeding, his frustrations not lessening. If anything, Padmé could see them growing worse.

"They _hate_ me, Padmé. I know they do."

"They're babies," she replied, setting Shmi to her shoulder and gently patting her back to induce a burp. "They don't know how to hate."

He turned his head, stare cold. "Then why do they cry whenever I hold them?"

Did it never occur to him that they sensed his walk with evil? The twins _were_ Force sensitive. She'd overheard Palpatine congratulating Anakin on that. It had been nauseating to witness, Palpatine going on and on about how wonderful it was to see the Force strong in a family while Anakin puffed up his chest with pride. So _lovely_ to feel the Force strong in two babies only days old.

Of course, how much was truth and how much simply Palpatine being his flattering self? It would be awhile yet before the twins could be officially tested.

"They cry at everything."

"No, they cry at _me_. Get it right, Padmé."

"Well don't look at _me_ like that. It's not my fault."

He swallowed, ducked his head and suddenly, he was once more an anguished young man needing comfort. "I want to love them and I do, I really do. But I can't pick them up. What if that doesn't change? What if I can never pick them up? What kind of father will I be to them if I can't get near them?"

Padmé had no answer for him.

Anakin paused his strides beside the basinet, looking down into it. "I'm going out for awhile. Tell Dormé I don't feel like a game tonight."

He was gone in a minute and both Artoo and Threepio came from the hallway to help her.

* * *

His presence had been requested. Bail didn't quite know what to make of Anakin Skywalker's invitation to visit Padmé and the newborns. While he'd planned to visit one of these days, likely with Mon Mothma to keep Skywalker's obvious jealous tendencies at bay, he hadn't planned on anything resembling a private visit. Skywalker had contacted him personally, insisting that Bail come by after work to see the twins and Padmé. Padmé was already missing her friends in the Senate, Anakin explained and she'd love to hear the latest news. 

He wondered what Padmé's home life was like, considering Skywalker had her wrapped up tightly in that apartment. It was a difficult matter to try to speak with her on anything. Anakin had so many security measures implemented it was a wonder anyone saw Padmé at all.

Her replacement as Senator was in place, giving Padmé time to recover from giving birth. There were still things she'd need to do officially, as her service wasn't terminated in full for several more weeks, but she didn't have to be at the Senate building every day. She could be at home getting used to the hours newborns kept.

He shifted the present Breha had insisted he buy and take with him, hoping Padmé and Anakin would like it. It was two simple blankets, exquisitely embroidered by an artist Breha knew of. The names of the children had been added to the design by special order.

His wife was sorry she was unable to come to Coruscant after all, asking him to extend an invitation for Anakin and Padmé to bring the twins and come to Alderaan. Breha already knew Padmé personally, but Anakin only by reputation and what she'd seen on the HoloNet. She wished to meet the young man who'd caught Padmé's eye. He must be extraordinary, Breha had once murmured. Padmé would not fall in love with just any man.

Bail sighed, a frown worrying his brow. He'd pass on the invitation of course, but with Anakin's close tie to Palpatine, Bail was hesitant to have him on Alderaan at all. Keep the Empire out of his home as long as possible.

Threepio greeted him at the lift, showed him in and left to find refreshments. Bail noticed Anakin doing something to the front of an astromech droid. He was frowning, muttering something low under his breath and not appearing at all pleased with his task. The younger man quickly finished his work and straightened. The droid left the room, making low, almost angry sounding whistles all the while. Anakin directed a dark frown after the droid, then came to Bail, quickly changing his expression to something more welcoming.

"Glad you could come, Bail. Padmé will be out in a minute. She and Dormé decided a few minutes ago that the twins needed different outfits or some such silly thing. Please, sit."

Bail handed over the present and took a seat . "How is fatherhood treating you so far," he inquired with polite and genuine interest in the answer. Some day soon, he hoped he and Breha would be successful in adopting a baby girl. It would be nice to hear Anakin's thoughts before hand so he could compare his own experiences when they occurred. Bail didn't allow himself to think it'd never occur. Some day, he and Breha _would_ be parents. He had a good feeling that day was not far off.

Anakin looked very anxious, sitting across from him. Bail had no trouble remembering how young the other man actually was. His youth was a shining beacon from him despite how the war had aged him. Was that nervousness as well perhaps? Yes, Bail thought it might possibly be. Was this man who'd fallen to the Dark side actually nervous over an evening of conversation?

Bail didn't let the idea make him see Anakin Skywalker as anything other than what he knew him to be. Palpatine was cunning and he suspected Anakin was too. No matter how charming or anxious or nervous Anakin appeared, it could well be an act. Bail would never discount what Yoda had told him.

"Babies don't sleep when they should," Anakin said in all seriousness. "They sleep the day through and then are awake crying all night. They are creatures of need. Food, bathing, changing. Padmé amazes me. She makes it look effortless, juggling both babies at once..." He trailed off, glance falling on the hallway.

Padmé and Dormé appeared, each carrying a baby.

Bail stood as they approached, giving Padmé a social kiss on her cheek and a half-hug. "You're looking radiant, Padmé." She was too, even if he could tell at a glance that she was about to drop from fatigue. Motherhood may have made her radiant, but it had also exhausted her.

"Thank you," she replied with a raised brow, as though she thought he was merely being kind. She turned the baby she carried so he could see it. "This is our girl, Shmi."

A pretty baby and Bail remembered the name had been Anakin's mother's. It was a nice way to remember the woman, he thought. A positive beginning from what had been a tragic ending. Had Padmé insisted on it or Anakin? The baby was lifted his way, an invitation to hold her and he accepted that invitation.

"She's lighter than I thought she'd be," he remarked once the child was in his arms.

"They hardly weigh anything," Anakin contributed, still holding the package. He didn't seem inclined to take either child, remaining in his seat as Padmé took Shmi back and let Bail hold Anakin -- little Annie.

'Little Annie', as though it was his full name and he wasn't named after his father.

The children were remarkably quiet, barely murmuring at all, which surprised Bail somewhat. He'd never seen babies so quiet unless they were sleeping.

"You'll have your own child soon enough," Padmé said with a smile that held so much certainty to it that he believed her. She sat beside Anakin. Dormé took Annie, sitting in a chair a ways away. There, she rocked and hummed softly to the boy.

"Breha is becoming disheartened in our efforts to adopt and I must admit I have my moments as well. It seems nothing goes right in the process for us. We want a girl. Nothing wrong with boys, but we'd prefer a girl and there are never baby girls. Or if there are, the birth parents change their minds."

"That must be frustrating, not having a child when you wish it so." Anakin said, putting an arm around his wife and a hand on the blanket wrapping Shmi. Bail wondered at the smugness in his tone and decided to ignore it.

"It can be. Now, a slight change of topic. I should express my regrets to you both. Breha had an emergency at home and she won't be coming to Coruscant after all, not for months anyway. I'm afraid our dinner as two couples will have to happen another time. She was very disappointed. I know she was looking forward to meeting you Anakin. However," he continued, "she has extended an invitation for you to visit us on Alderaan. You would, of course, stay with us."

Shmi began to squirm, making tiny noises that indicated an outburst of cries was soon to come. Anakin removed his arm from Padmé, picking up the present again and turning it this way and that. "We'll have to plan a trip, won't we Padmé? But it won't be for awhile. I can't get away for the next few months. Emperor Palpatine has my time scheduled out exactly so. There are matters I must attend to as well."

Bail nodded. He knew very well what Anakin was saying, could see it clearly. There would be no trip to Alderaan. Padmé would be going nowhere. They would be acquaintances on Coruscant, but anything more would not occur. "I'm sure we can work out a time suitable for all of us," he said, wondering if Padmé had noticed the crux of Anakin's answer. He watched Padmé rock Shmi, brow furrowing with her efforts to calm the child, and changed the subject again. "I hope you like the gift. Breha told me what to buy. She knew what she wanted us to give you."

The gift was opened, Padmé taking time from soothing her baby girl to run a finger along the embroidery. "Bail, these are lovely."

"It's all done by hand."

Conversation dwindled and Bail was glad to be away from the apartment.

* * *

His children liked Bail Organa. His _son_ liked Bail Organa. Vader suppressed a snort after the man had gone, tossing the prettily embroidered blankets aside without a care where they fell. His own children wouldn't lie quiet and content in his arms, but they'd take to a stranger? It was citrus juices poured over an open wound, stinging. It was insulting and yet Padmé claimed the children didn't know how to hate. 

She was wrong. They knew how.

Shmi would not be calmed. He knew the routine by now. His wife would check to see if the baby was wet, then try to burp her. When that didn't work, she'd rock her, standing to move about the apartment. Only when those things failed would Padmé consider undoing her bodice to feed her.

Vader was in no mood for the long routine tonight. "Feed her already. You know she's a bottomless pit where her stomach is concerned." Behind him, he heard Dormé snicker, his mood souring further. He gritted his teeth, keeping his back to the handmaiden. "What's so funny, Dormé," he managed in a pleasant tone.

"You sound like every new father I've been reading about. A little grumpy and needing rest just as much as the new mother."

"I'm getting enough rest, thank you." He closed his eyes, irritation rising as he realized how petulantly the words had come out. Dormé snickered again. Taking a deep breath, he reopened his eyes. Padmé was undoing her bodice, lips compressed tightly together. Shmi latched on, cries ending.

They would though, wouldn't they, he thought. A little difficult to cry when you're eating. He watched for a moment, but even the sight of the child peacefully feeding at Padmé's breast would not calm him tonight.

He stood. "Artoo, you're with me," he called out. He had to get out of the apartment, if only for a few hours. "I'll be back in awhile." Vader didn't both telling the women where he was going. Why should he? What business was it of theirs where he went?


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: When Angels Weep**

**Author: kasey8473**

**Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.**

**Chapter: 8**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.**

**

* * *

**Two months sped by. Padmé was amazed how quickly the days went by when she was occupied with the children. One day ended and another immediately began without any real rest for her. Anakin was short tempered, unwilling to consider hiring someone to come help her and Dormé during the day. He claimed they had matters well in hand. 

She finished changing Shmi and picked her up, breathing in the scent of freshly washed baby. Shmi was growing so much faster than little Annie. At the rate she was growing she'd be twice his size soon. Padmé had asked about that at their last checkup and had been assured that children grew at their own rate. The twins were normal. One of these days, little Annie would catch up and maybe even surpass his sister in size. Just feed them when they were hungry and let them sleep. Those were the best things for them.

Little Annie sure had the sleeping part down. Already he was sleeping through the night. Shmi on the other hand... She kept a schedule completely opposite her brother and was twice as fussy.

Padmé sighed. As for her own health, she was slowly losing the weight she'd gained with the twins. She'd begun exercising again and kept a close eye on her diet. She wanted to be in top shape when the time came to leave. That day was awhile off, however. The babies weren't quite old enough to travel well.

Not that she had a ship to use anymore. Captain Typho had been dismissed, the ship returned to Naboo. Her replacement in the Senate had a much newer vessel he used to travel with. While Padmé could understand having to return the ship -- she was not going to be a Senator much longer -- she was saddened by its loss. The loss of freedom to travel.

Her fears had been realized. She was trapped in an exquisitely gilded cage. Her comings and goings and even her communications were monitored and all in the name of protection. Anakin thought he was protecting her. Guards were everywhere and Dormé was beginning to question the need for such tight security, voicing her thoughts to Anakin. He'd listen with a polite smile and assure her that there was still a threat to Padmé. They had to be vigilant to keep her protected.

Anakin told Padmé over and over how safe he was making her surroundings so that she would feel protected and cared for when he couldn't be there with her.

For her. He was doing it for her.

If Padmé had any tears left inside her she would cry for that. Everything he did was for her and he couldn't see, was blind to see what he was doing to her.

I will do anything that you ask.

Yes, he would do anything. Except give up his ambitions, his partnership with darkness, and go away with her and their children to live in anonymity on some backwater planet in the Outer Rim. All Padmé wanted was his love and it seemed his love was being covered over and buried.

With a glance at Annie, sound asleep for the first of his afternoon naps, Padmé left the bedroom and went out onto the verandah, willing all sadness away from her. There was a delightfully cool breeze. It would be a shame to let herself wallow in despondency on such a beautiful day. She sat, listening to the sounds of the traffic and of Dormé arguing ineffectually with Threepio about something she couldn't quite make out, rocking Shmi to and fro in a soothing manner.

"Oh!" Dormé exclaimed loudly and then there was silence from Threepio as Artoo whistled and beeped. When her voice continued, it was softer, conversational in tone and Threepio did not reply. She guessed Dormé had turned off his voice.

It was a pleasant moment. Padmé wished all her days could be this pleasant. She wished that right at this second she was back home on Naboo, with Anakin beside her. They'd be sitting outside in a garden or on a balcony, looking out across a lake or river, someplace with water. He'd be holding one of their babies and she the other, or perhaps her parents would be watching the babies for the afternoon, giving Padmé and Anakin time for themselves.

There'd be a mischievous glint in his eyes as he teased her about one thing or another. He'd smile at her and she'd lean over to kiss him. His hand would raise, his voice gentle and soft as he told her she was beautiful and that he loved her more than anything...

Padmé smiled at the imagining, at the memory blended with it. Many times Anakin had teased her, told her she was beautiful and expressed his love for her. Only a few times had the setting been Naboo. She wanted to go back to the past, knowing what she knew now, and fix what had gone wrong. She wanted to leave the Senate before she'd learned democracy was broken and live on Naboo waiting for her husband to come to see her.

No, she thought. Even those steps would not have kept this time from coming to pass. She wanted a different reality entirely, where the Jedi allowed their marriage and their love and they'd never entered into a hidden relationship at all. She wanted a life where they'd loved openly. She could be near her family and not be afraid for what the future might possibly hold for her and her children. Padmé wanted a dream, a fanciful tread of the mind into the waters of what may have been had things been different.

It was something that never would have been and could not be. They would never go to Naboo or be so carefree as they had been for achingly brief moments. She knew that. But still...

A wistful sigh left her.

It was nice to pretend, to hold the wondering in her mind and wish it could come to pass. It was lovely to sit in the sun and contemplate a life where there'd been no pain, no deceit and where her husband never turned to the dark side of the Force.

"I like watching you with them."

She turned her head. Anakin was crossing to her, a gentle smile turning his lips. The smile was so much like what she'd imagined that Padmé swallowed hard around a sudden lump in her throat.

"There's something very peaceful about watching you hold our children. It calms me." He joined her, sitting directly beside her, his leg firm against hers.

"You're back earlier than usual." Those trips he took for Palpatine took more than a few hours most days. He'd leave early in the morning, posting guards about the entrances to the apartment and building -- for her safety. Then, he'd return late at night, sometimes so angry that she'd find herself curling in a tight ball on the bed in the chance he wouldn't turn his temper upon her. She'd hold her breath so she wouldn't cry out her fear of him. A chorus of 'don't make a sound' would run through her mind as he cursed and muttered and paced.

She'd make a silent wish that Dormé and the babies wouldn't hear him, that they'd remain safely asleep. Protected from his ire. So far, her wishes had come true.

But then there were other times when he'd come in as though drugged, stumbling and clumsy, sweating and shaking, his face a mask of horror and his eyes reflecting a terror that had scarred him deep inside. Those moments reminded her of that evening on Tatooine when he'd brought his mother back. She'd comforted him then, but no more. No longer would she try to comfort him. He didn't want her comfort.

The first time he'd come back here to the apartment in that condition, the touch of her hand on his arm had produced a violent reaction. He'd shoved her away, words that made no sense pouring from him in broken sentences, as though his _mind_ wouldn't let him tell her what had brought him to this state. It had frustrated him and he'd ended up sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped about his knees, rocking a little with his face buried.

When he'd finally raised his head, his eyes had burned with a frightening intensity. '_Go to bed, Padmé. Just go to bed. I don't need your help_.'

On those nights, she would close her eyes and listen to her husband cry the remaining hours of night away. In the morning, she'd pretend she hadn't heard him at all.

But _this_? This good cheer was a new development.

"Persuasion was not required in negotiations." He raised his hand, trailing his fingers down her arm. "I want to take you out tonight. The Emperor doesn't need me so I can spend the time with you instead. Just the two of us."

"Anakin --"

He bent his head, managing to avoid any contact with Shmi as he cut off her sentence with a kiss that was anything but chaste. When he stepped back, his stare was heavy lidded and suggestive and wholly her Annie. "We need time together alone, my love. It's been months. I looked at your medical records and you're...healthy."

She willed herself to ignore his violation of medical confidentiality. He had it rationalized in his mind, therefore, it wasn't wrong.

"Don't be shy, Padmé. We need a romantic evening." Another kiss, then others trailing across her cheek and down her neck. "A relaxing night together. No babies crying for you, no duties of any kind."

He wasn't asking her. He was telling her. They were going to go out tonight and come back here. Come back _here_. Padmé's heartbeat quickened, her eyes widening as she finally realized what he meant. He wasn't talking about dinner and a nightclub. Well, he was, but not solely. He was talking about the _one_ issue she'd managed to avoid until now. She'd been too pregnant after returning from Mustafar and then had just given birth. He'd looked at her records, knew they could resume the full physical aspect of their marriage.

Oh dear.

If he noticed she'd stiffened, he gave no sign, continuing to nuzzle her affectionately. "You don't need to be frightened. You know I won't hurt you."

Spark of memory. His hand raising, her throat closing. Breath wheezing into nonexistence.

A final lingering kiss was placed upon her lips, Anakin then standing. "I'll make all arrangements. You just concentrate on pampering yourself this afternoon. Linger in the bath, wile away the hours in leisure and I'll be back later."

He was gone in several strides, leaving Padmé wondering how she was going to deal with this new development.

* * *

Dormé rocked little Annie. Shmi was asleep, finally succumbing to the pull to slumber. For awhile she'd been busy, trying to keep the two children occupied while Padmé took a long bath. They were settling down now and she was glad for it. Little Annie cooed and yawned, everything sweet a baby should be. 

Anakin appeared in the doorway, handsome in Jedi garb, a charming smile on his face. What does he want, she wondered cynically, recognizing the smile now as the one he used when he wanted something. She liked his genuine smiles much better than this one. "Hello Dormé. Have they been behaving for you all afternoon?"

"They always do," she replied. "Little angels." Padmé had once told her how a young Anakin had called her an angel. The sweetness of that stuck with her to this day. Padmé was a beautiful woman. Dormé could understand how a young boy might think her some ethereal creature.

"What else can an angel bear but other angels?"

She laughed at that smooth retort, arching a brow. "Well, when they're asleep they're angels."

He stepped towards her, looked down at his son. "You're good with them." His hand stretched out, fingers stopping just shy of him, as though he was afraid to touch the boy, but then he moved that last half inch. His forefinger, the real one, grazed little Annie's cheek. The boy went completely still, eyes opening wide. Anakin's smile slipped into a genuine one, filled with happiness and light. After a few seconds, little Annie turned his head towards Dormé, burying his face against her like he often did with his mother.

Anakin drew back, his expression a little less content than it had been, that smile slipping away into nothingness. "I'm taking Padmé out tonight. It'll be late when we return and we need time together alone without interruptions in the night."

Dormé nodded. She'd been expecting this for the past two weeks, ever since her lady's last check-up.

"I'd like you to care for our babies tonight and through morning, until midday. Then, Padmé can sleep in. She needs the rest."

Thoughtful, that last bit, except Padmé had an early meeting with other Senators. It was the last of the meetings she had scheduled, signaling an end to her time as a Senator. Dormé gathered it was a goodbye breakfast with little real business to be discussed, hosted by Bail Organa and Mon Mothma. They'd invited Padmé's allies in the Senate, arranged the breakfast around all their schedules. "What of the meeting? She can't miss it. It's one of those breakfast affairs--"

He shrugged. "It's been rescheduled." Satisfaction tinged his voice, but why? It wasn't like he could arrange Senators' schedules to suit his whim. Or had Emperor Palpatine arranged it as a favor to Anakin? After all, Anakin was loyal to Palpatine. He'd considered the man a mentor for years. Palpatine was fully capable of making the meeting impossible to occur tomorrow morning.

She shifted little Annie. Glancing back up at Anakin, she noticed a change in his eyes. There was something... How to explain it in a word? No one word sufficed. The shift was dark, sinister, with a lurking impression of danger, a sensation growing inside her that before her now stood a total stranger. Where Anakin had been stood a complete mirror copy of him. He looked like him, talked like him. He _was_ him for all intents and purposes. And yet he was not him at the same time. Paradoxical and nonsensical that feeling.

Dormé blinked. Her lady's story came tumbling back to her. _He may be Anakin, but he's not my Annie. _Padmé's certainty that Anakin was not her husband. Her tale of him choking her.

He behaved like he was her husband. He brought Padmé presents, spoke softly to her and always with the devoted air of a man who adored his wife. Dormé's mind didn't want to consider that Anakin was abusive.

Why? Because. He was nice and charming. He obviously cared for Padmé. Not to mention that if he was abusive, she'd been aiding him for months. Dormé would never forgive herself if that ended up being the case -- not that she'd told him everything she and Padmé discussed. Her first loyalty was to Padmé and always would be. She was a handmaiden. She was a bodyguard and she was, above all else, a friend. Dormé would keep Padmé's secrets until Padmé told her to stop.

This stranger tilted his head to one side, lips quirking as though he knew she'd seen him and recognized him as a stranger. "Something wrong, Dormé?" He blinked and was Anakin again, genuinely puzzled by the odd expression she knew was on her face.

Quickly, she shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm a little tired is all. Your two little angels were active all afternoon. Does my lady know about the meeting?"

"I'll tell her in a bit. Is she still in the bath?"

"I think so."

With a thoughtful purse of his lips, Anakin strolled towards the bedroom and was gone from view.

Dormé turned her attention to the baby in her arms. He stared up at her. "I am not crazy," she whispered. "I did see that, didn't I?" He could not answer her, but Dormé was certain that somehow, the baby had also felt that shift like she had. Her thoughts turned round and round, going over old ground of the past few months, returning to things that had been said and done. She came to one conclusion.

Anakin was changed from what he'd been. But was that good or bad?

* * *

Padmé stared at the dress Anakin had picked out for her as she'd finished in the refresher, her towel clutched to her. Memories assailed her and she gave herself a stern order not to even sniffle. 

Is he determined to trod upon every last happy memory I have?

No, she reminded herself. He thinks he's making you remember, turning you back to him. Hence these constant tiny backwards trips in time.

She wore the clothes he wished her to, each outfit something she'd worn when with him in the past. He'd ask her about her favorite moment of those times until she was amazed at the details he remembered of their hours together. Her days were now ordered to please him. He didn't want to have to wait to have time with her, even if he did go off on those trips for Palpatine every couple days.

Anakin appeared to have forgotten that she was a woman of her own mind. Apparently in his memories, she was a meek, weak damsel waiting for his rescue and needing his direction in all things. How far from the truth that image was. He should know that. Didn't he remember her on Naboo or Geonosis? Didn't he remember her taking charge and not sitting on her hands waiting for him to protect her?

She'd been a queen of an entire planet and fought verbal battles in the Senate with a frequency that made them almost commonplace. She was not meek and neither was she going to sit back like a good little woman and let him have control over her.

Stretching out a hand, she trailed her fingers across the panels of nearly sheer fabric. She had kissed her Annie while wearing this dress, raised up her chin and met that tentative lowering of his lips with hers. In that second, a curiosity had been sparked within her to know his touch and the further bliss of his kisses.

It was clear to her now that she should have fought it harder. She should have denied the undeniable. That was the way of life, wasn't it? In retrospect, things always seemed different. She never should have admitted her feelings, or agreed to marry him. If she hadn't done either, she wouldn't be here now, chained to a man she didn't recognize as her husband.

Unwillingly, she recalled the trailing of Anakin's fingers along her bare back and arm and the charmingly goofy mention of her skin being soft unlike sand. He'd tried so hard to be suave and confident with her, his innocence in the words refreshing after all those silver tongues she'd had to listen to for years in the Senate. He'd meant his words, the emotion behind them. No pretending, his heart on his sleeve. His compliment was genuine, though the words were clumsy.

And later, in the darkened room by the fire, when he'd bared his soul. The desperation to continue being with her. The suggestion of lying, keeping secrets.

_If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion,it'll take us to a place we cannot go._

_We'd be living a lie._

_Could you live like that..._

She'd said all those words to him. And his reply: _You're right._ _It would destroy us_.

Her hand stilled on the fabric. And here we are, she thought, in the midst of destruction. Padmé sighed.

She'd wear this dress for Anakin and maybe, just maybe, a glimpse of her Annie would peek out of his eyes at her. If she could bring out even a two second glimpse, the emotional pain she now felt would be worth it.

The towel dropped to the floor and she pulled on the dress.

* * *

The entire evening was not what Padmé expected. She'd assumed they'd have a private, intimate meal together in some dark establishment and return to the apartment quickly. This, it turned out, was not the case. He wanted to socialize. Anakin took her into the lower levels of the city first, to places she'd never go by herself, then up to the more exclusive clubs, where even with her clout as a Senator, they would have had difficulty gaining entrance into. 

No problem for him. He simply used the Jedi mind trick over and over. He used the Force as he pleased, for casual purposes. Indiscriminate use. It didn't bother him, either. In fact, it was second nature, something he didn't even think about.

He showed her off to any who crossed their path. His beautiful wife.

Padmé hated it.

When he finally consented to having a meal, it was already later than she was used to eating, her stomach rumbling uncomfortably. As a consequence, she ate far more than she would have. Their glasses were kept filled with what she knew was expensive and quite potent wine. That wine, after two glasses, made her reckless, the guard she kept on her tongue slipping. Padmé knew she should not say what she found herself saying.

"You keep saying you won't hurt me, but we both know that's a lie, don't we Anakin?"

His glance raised from his plate, startled by her choice of topic. Slowly, anger began to simmer in those blue orbs. He sat back, wiped his mouth with his napkin and set the cloth aside. Their server took away their plates. Neither of them thanked her. Anakin's eyes narrowed. "I lost my temper, Padmé." He knew exactly what she was referring to. "That's all that happened. A momentary loss of control and could you blame me at that moment? It won't happen again. Why are you bringing this up? We don't need to talk about this."

"You lose your temper quite frequently," she retorted, feeling the heat from the wine working inside her. "Can you guarantee it won't happen again?"

"Have I..._touched_ you since then?" He asked that carefully, leaning forward, arms crossing on the table. "Have I physically hurt you, my love? Hmm?"

She had no answer. No, he hadn't _physically_ hurt her since Mustafar. Made her a prisoner by taking away her freedoms one by one, yes. Physically hurt, no. Padmé stared at him, keeping her hands flat on the table top, refusing to give in to the urge to lay them in her lap and bunch the fabric of her dress in them. Perspiration wet her palms.

Anakin shook his head. "Why are you trying to start a fight tonight? The first night we have alone since..." He paused, tilted his head, gaze sweeping her. His tongue wet his lips, anger fading from his eyes, replaced by an insufferably knowing expression. "No, don't answer that. I understand. Dormé's not the only one who's been doing some reading lately." Stretching one hand out, he ran his fingers along her arm. "You don't have to be afraid. You know I'll be gentle."

Padmé continued to stare at him. Well, if he thought _that_ was her reason for bringing it up, then so be it. Better he assumed that than realized the truth of the matter: the wine had made her tongue loose. As she watched him, he appeared to realize his words weren't having the effect he'd hoped. She saw a calculating gleam flare for a second in his eyes and then he was smiling, all charm, taking her hand and drawing her from the table and into the upper level, where a band was playing. They danced close, swayed more than anything really.

He pressed kisses to her temple, was every inch the loving, attentive husband.

A little while later, they returned to the apartment. There were delicious spicy scents in the air from whatever Dormé had fixed for herself to eat and the apartment was silent. There were no sounds of crying babies and Padmé spied Threepio powered down along one wall. They were scarcely through the door when Anakin reached for her.

Padmé took a quick step to the left, as though she'd seen something out the window that had captured her interest, and moved further into the apartment. Anakin's mood became more amorous as the seconds passed. He fairly stalked her about the rooms. Padmé was careful not to let herself be cornered, but she knew she had to settle down eventually to the inevitability of his touch. She wasn't going to be able to put him off for much longer. She guessed she had only minutes at most before he ended this chase.

In an effort to pass time and put off the moment she dreaded, Padmé evaded his embrace once more and went onto the balcony, staring at the lights of the city. She heard his impatient sigh as he followed her. "I want to go home to Naboo." A longing filled her to smell the flowers, see the water, feel the warm breezes there. Naboo however, was as far away from her now as if it resided in another galaxy altogether.

His hands touched her hips, squeezed warmly. She felt the heat of his body along her back. Anakin's lips caressed her bare shoulder, worked up to her ear. "_This_ is your home now, here on Coruscant, with me and our children."

She buried her longing deep inside her, wondering how much of herself she could hide away before he noticed. "I know," she replied, pressing closer to the balcony only to have him follow, trapping her against it. "An idle wish, nothing more."

His hands moved, skimmed forward, dragging her back to him. His arms went around her in a tight embrace. "We'll make this a home like your parent's home. Full of love, of life. But it'll be ours." Anakin's breath tickled her ear. "I won't allow anyone to take you or the twins away from me. Not ever. You'll be safe with me forever." He nuzzled her neck, then moved to the other side.

Padmé clutched at his arms, desperately trying to think of something else to say to stall him and at the same time, keep his hands from wandering. "I want my parents to meet them before Annie and Shmi are too much older," she gasped out.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, loosing one hand and slipping it deftly beneath the side of her dress under her arm. After a second, he paused, obviously trying to recall what she'd just said. "Uh...They _will_ meet them. We'll take time and go there when matters settle a bit." Before he'd spoken the last word, he was moving his hands again, undoing the fastenings of her dress.

"Anakin! Not out here on the balcony!" Padmé grasped the fabric to keep it from sliding down her body. Somehow, without her noticing, he'd also undone the clasps holding the panels to her arms. If she let go, she'd be standing naked on the balcony for all of Coruscant to see.

"Then come inside," he said, turning her, kissing her, lifting her, "and quite stalling."

Anakin carried her into their room and laid her on their bed.

Padmé had the brief thought that they wouldn't go to Naboo anyway. It was a lie. He had no intention of sharing her with anyone or letting her go anywhere off-planet without him. Her attention was firmly caught by him and the mischievous, yet thoroughly heated glance he raked over her.

Her Annie made quick work of her dress.

* * *

She was everything he wanted, needed, thirsted and hungered for. She was everything to him. He showed her he loved her with every kiss, every caress and every gasping of her name. Anakin worshipped her, his wife, his lover. He kissed away her fears and showed her she didn't have to be afraid. She didn't ever need to fear him. He loved her. 

When he had shown her his feelings, he slept the sleep of the satisfied and Vader rose in his place.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 9

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: For those interested, there is an extended ending of chapter 8 up on my website.

* * *

How many times they came together Padmé didn't know. She lost count, time slowing to a wonderful crawl until at last they lay sated in the tangle of the sheets. 

And then... The inevitable.

One moment he was her Annie, gathering her against him in the darkest hours of the night, and the next he was that stranger. He pressed her head to his chest, fingers stroking her hair, catching in the curls. She'd only closed her eyes for a second, but that was all the time it had taken. Poof! Annie was gone and she was naked with this man pretending to be him.

Their blissful time together was no more. A chill swept her.

Shock replaced Padmé's joy, filled her up as though she was an empty pitcher, numbing her. She detected a marked difference in his touch, that difference growing with each pass of his fingers. Gone was the sense of love and cherishment behind each caress, replaced with a rising possessiveness.

If she had been filled up by her shock, then he was being filled up with cold arrogance.

Padmé struggled to remain calm. Now was not the time for the stranger to return, but he was returning and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Suddenly, he rolled her over onto her back, staring down at her. That stare was just probing enough to be uncomfortable and it took all of Padmé's will to remain still. "What Anakin?" Surprisingly, her voice didn't quiver at all, though she did feel a trembling of her lower lip and hoped he'd attribute it to a lingering physical reaction to the past hours.

A pensive frown lowered his brow, his hand settling upon her stomach. When he spoke, there was a faint air of accusation. "You didn't call me Annie. Not once."

"Oh." She nodded. An oversight. She couldn't call him that though. There was no way Padmé could make herself do it. He wasn't her Annie. She kicked at the sheet twisted about her left ankle, ignoring the desire to grab it and drag it over herself.

"Why not?" He raised up a bit more. "You never call me Annie anymore. Even when we're alone you never..." Anakin trailed off. "I miss it," he finished with a shrug of one bare shoulder.

Padmé took her time answering, trying to find a reply that would make sense to him. "You once said that calling you that made you feel like a little boy. Now that we're parents, I thought --"

"I changed my mind," he said softly, fingers drawing tiny circles on her stomach. "I liked it, Padmé. Your voice when you said 'Annie'..." His expression shifted, a strange melánge of sadness, hurt, and joy. "From your lips it was..." Anakin seemed uncertain, almost tentative.

She sensed her Annie was about to make another appearance and she waited breathless for him. Two appearances in one night would make her ecstatic, especially if this appearance was longer than the first. "Yes?"

He took two shallow breaths, eyes slipping shut. His mouth closed, lips tight together. As she watched, his expression flattened, emotion coming back under control. Anakin reopened his eyes, gave a quick smile. "You're right, of course. Best to put the past away. No more 'Annie'."

She found those words horribly prophetic. _No more Annie_. He was fading before her eyes, being buried under the layers of this man. No matter how hard she tried to reach him, he kept slipping away, an elusive ghost in a mist.

Returning to her side, he laid his arm about her waist, dragging her hard against him, maneuvering her so that they were pressed flush together. She felt his chest against her back rising and falling and then his voice came, softer than before, on the back of a yawn. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you, my love." Smug. Almost gloating.

Padmé relaxed against him, the warmth of his body rolling over her, lulling her. No, her Annie hadn't hurt her at all. "I know," she whispered.

"You worry too much. When we're ruling, you won't need to worry at all."

Though she waited for more, he didn't say another word. After awhile, Padmé heard soft snores from his lips and let herself drift into sleep.

She woke at dawn to the possessive trailing of Anakin's fingers on her body. Her level of consciousness rose gradually to the point that she was able to open her eyes and look at him. He was fully dressed beside the bed, leaning over her. Padmé started to roll onto her side, to move and waken fully, but he touched her brow and the effort was far too gargantuan. She no longer felt like waking. Sleep sucked at her, sinking her in it's mire.

"I'll be back in a couple hours," she heard him say and then suddenly Padmé was awake again, gasping as she sat up.

Padmé, wake up. Wake up already!

Time had passed, perhaps an hour or a little over it. Her head throbbed as though she hadn't gotten enough restful sleep and Padmé blinked, confused. What had woken her? Had Anakin really told her he'd be back in a couple hours or had that been part of a dream? She found she couldn't bring the memory of him beside her into clarity.

_Now,_ came that familiar voice, the one she was having trouble placing._ It has to be now, before he returns. You've not much time._

Now? Now for what? What was she running out of time for? Urgency infused her limbs.

Get out of bed!

The voice was loud, yelling, and she scrambled from the bed, drawing on her robe as Artoo came into the room. Finding her awake, he stopped, giving a chirping whir. Anakin's holoimage appeared and Padmé realized Artoo had recorded it without Anakin's knowledge. Very sneaky. She loved this little droid more each day. Her husband was conversing with a guard, making the security arrangements for the day. She watched and listened.

"--none up by the apartment. Watch the building entrances and make note of anyone on the landing pad. Though I sincerely doubt my wife will feel up to going anywhere or having visitors." His tone was self-satisfied.

"Yes, sir. And transmissions?"

"Ignore those to and from her office, monitor all others. Keep jamming off-planet transmissions both ways."

"What of the handmaiden?"

Anakin paused. "Just for today, monitor her activities and her transmissions. If she leaves, follow her. Inform me where she goes, who she meets or if she speaks with a seeming stranger overlong. Only today. I'm curious about her doings."

The image winked off, Artoo turning, moving back down the hallway.

Erase the recording, Padmé.

Following Artoo, she stopped him, erased the moments he'd recorded. Threepio was still powered down along the wall where he'd been the night before. Padmé clutched her robe to her, standing staring around the room, still a bit confused as to what she needed to do. There was a push along her back, the sensation of someone propelling her across the room. She didn't resist it.

Bail Organa. He is an ally. Trust him.

Clarity snapped onto her mind. Bail would be in his office this early. He was normally an early riser. She wondered what he'd thought of their breakfast meeting being cancelled, then shook her head. Focus. She could contact her own office, claim transmission problems and have them reroute her to Bail's office. Simple. In minutes, she saw Bail's image before her.

"Padmé," he exclaimed, concern on his features.

"I've little time, Bail. I need help."

"I know. Believe me, I know. What can I do?"

She didn't ask how he knew. It seemed natural to her that Bail would know. He was a fount of knowledge to begin with. As she spoke, Padmé continued to feel the comforting hands on her shoulders, though there was no one behind her. Calm swept over her, yet her hands shook uncontrollably. "Find someone to smuggle me off Coruscant."

"When?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. I can't answer that. When the opportunity is there." She shook her head. "It could be tomorrow, next week or months from now. I can't give you a definite timeframe. I know that makes it harder."

"How many?"

"Me, the babies, Dormé and the droids." She was certain she could trust Dormé again. Her handmaiden didn't hide the conversations Anakin had with her on Padmé's state of mind. In fact, Dormé didn't hide anything from Padmé if she could help it.

"Done."

Artoo gave a whistle of approval.

"My office will contact you with details. We'll be discreet, of course."

Bail's aide, Sheltay Retrac, would contact her. That was what he meant. Sheltay defined the word 'discreet'. Padmé swallowed hard, uncertain how to bring up the subject of payment. "Bail, I can't... I have no credits. Anakin --"

"Shh." He raised a hand. "It's already taken care of. I'll move with utmost haste. Try and rest easy, Padmé. We'll get you to safety."

Hurry, Padmé. He's on his way back.

Padmé gave the hall towards the lift and then the landing pad frantic glances, uncertain where Anakin would be entering the apartment. When her glance returned to Bail's image, it was gone as though it had never been there to begin with. She quickly checked to be certain she hadn't left anything powered up that hadn't been and hurried back to the bedroom, throwing off her robe and slipping beneath the covers.

_You did well,_ that voice comforted her and for a few seconds, before she closed her eyes, Padmé thought she saw the outline of a man crouched beside the bed. He looked like Qui Gon Gin. Absurd. Qui Gon was long dead and the only place he could be alive was in memories. She was hallucinating, that was all.

Padmé slept and when dreams rushed upon her, they were of a cloaked figure setting a baby in the arms of Owen Lars and of a young man with her Annie's eyes staring at a sunrise.

She was not awake to see Anakin return, to watch his suspicious prowling of the apartment or the puzzled expression that came when his search revealed nothing and no one out of the ordinary.

* * *

What Padmé asked of him was going to be difficult, yet Bail didn't for one moment hesitate. He set Sheltay directly to the task. She slipped from his office and he didn't doubt that by tomorrow morning, she'd have contacts combing Coruscant's underground for a suitable smuggler. It wouldn't be long before plans were in place and Bail decided it would be better if he didn't know details. That way, if Anakin realized Bail had aided his wife, he couldn't be pressed to tell the former Jedi where Padmé was. 

He tapped his fingers on the desk top. Padmé's courage constantly amazed him. She was one strong woman to remain on Coruscant as long as she had. And close to Anakin at that. He fervently hoped they could smuggle her away.

By now, Bail had come to realize that Yoda was right. Palpatine had something in mind for Padmé. He kept ordering meetings cancelled and always giving the reason that Padmé's family needed her far more than the Senate. Besides, her replacement was there. She'd trained the man well before she'd gone into labor, so really, she wasn't needed.

He grimaced. Of course she wasn't needed in Palpatine's view. She was a voice for democracy and democracy was dead. In a rising Empire, she was obsolete.

He'd just have to wait for Sheltay to report back to him. With difficulty, Bail put Padmé from his mind and began his work for the day.

* * *

Parts of the HoloNet were down. Padmé didn't need to be told why. She knew very well what was happening. Those day trips Anakin made to nearby systems. The legions of troops rumored to accompany him. She'd have to be stupid not to see it and Padmé was not stupid. 

Systems were already being forced into submission and Anakin was entrenched in the slaughtering she knew had to be happening. No, not simply entrenched, but _leading_ it. She'd ceased to be surprised by that. She knew what he was capable of by now. Her eyes weren't closed. Padmé had ceased to be blind to the dark inside of her husband since Mustafar.

What parts of the HoloNet that were up gave glowing, rosy views of the galaxy and this Empire. There were occasional reports of uprisings quickly squashed by great hero Anakin Skywalker and troops, letting peace once more settle.

Dormé touched her arm and Padmé turned to her. Her handmaiden's gaze was troubled and she spoke her mind without leading up to the subject. "There was blood on his clothes, my lady. The clothes he had on yesterday." Dormé's gaze slipped over her, as though wondering if Padmé was hiding cuts on her body. "I saw it when I picked up your room a few moments ago."

She sighed. Sometimes he did have blood on his clothes. Usually he didn't. A lightsaber cauterized wounds though, didn't it? "He came in that way last night. It was late."

Dormé's gaze searched hers long and hard before relief settled in her eyes and she nodded. "Was he injured?"

"No. He wasn't physically hurt." Padmé wondered at the mental toll upon Anakin. All this killing. She heard one of the babies begin to cry down the hall and wanted to cry herself.

"I'll see to them, my lady. Take some time for yourself." With a small, reassuring smile, Dormé disappeared down the hall.

Padmé went into the bedroom and took a prettily carved box from her closet. Sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed, she opened the lid, another long sigh leaving her.

How sad it was to put away a memory and know that the moment of it was gone forever into the past. Padmé clasped her hands about the japor snippet she'd continued wearing about her neck, closed her eyes, and gave the chain holding it a fierce tug. The chain clasp broke, spilling the chain down. Opening her hands, she stared at the snippet, remembering when Anakin had given it to her.

He'd been a child, shivering from cold, missing his mother. She'd wrapped him up, comforted him and he had given her this snippet he'd carved with his own two hands. If only the man he'd become were so easily comforted as the child he'd been. If only the innocence of that child had remained in his heart. But it hadn't. It was gone.

With a sadness nearly as overwhelming as what she'd felt on Mustafar, Padmé put the snippet in the box and closed the lid, all the while feeling as though a part of her was forever gone. Her hands raised, wiped at her cheeks, swiping away the tears that coursed down them.

Think positive, she admonished herself. Someday, when her Annie returned for good, she was going to take that snippet back out and wear it, but for now, it would remain there with the rest of her treasured memories. It would be put away and safe.

Rather than return the box to her closet, Padmé put it out on one table and rearranged the rest of the knick knacks around it. She resisted the urge to open the lid and stare at the snippet, finally deciding she'd better occupy herself elsewhere or she _would_ give in to that urge. And then she'd cry the whole day long.

She found Dormé in the twins' room, telling them softly and in all seriousness that they really needed to take another nap. They hadn't slept long enough in her opinion. Shmi was having none of it and Padmé laughed a little, grateful for a reason to smile. "You know they're not going back to sleep now."

"I can pretend," Dormé replied cheerfully.

"Don't worry about it. We're going out for awhile. I'd like to eat in one of the cafés this afternoon." There was a silent question in Dormé's eyes. "Anakin has generously allotted me an allowance to be used in the dining establishments. Pre-approved, with instructions he is to be contacted if used in anyplace other than a restaurant." Padmé raised a brow, unable to mask the bitterness to her tone even if she wanted to try. "So let's eat out."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in one café, enjoying the good food and the jovial atmosphere of those gathered there.

* * *

Something was different about her. Vader divided his attention between the strategy game and Padmé, trying to pinpoint what was different. It wasn't a case of if something was, for he knew it with a certainty. He could feel it. His wife was different, but how? 

Across from him, Dormé was biting her lower lip, her hand hovering over two different pieces, as though she couldn't decided which to move. Her gaze searched the board, noting the positions of his pieces before she raised her eyes to meet his. Her voice was cross. "Can't I just concede the game?"

Vader smirked at her. "No. There's a way out, Dormé. You're not trapped. Don't you see it?"

Those genteel games they'd begun with were a thing of the past. Vader played to win. He accepted no failure in himself in each game and Dormé's skills had ceased to match his own. He'd taken to nearly winning and then goading her into trying to turn the tables. Of course she failed every time. It was interesting to watch her frustrations rising. Dormé would frown at first, eyes narrowing and then she'd lean forward in her chair until she was perched on the edge. Gradually, her temper would begin to slip, yet she hid it well. Not once did her temper explode.

"No, I don't see it." She shook her head.

"You concede so quickly?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her hand from the board. "I surrender. You've won. _Again_."

Sounded like she didn't appreciate her losing streak. Poor Dormé. Now she knew how he'd felt when they first started playing. "Very well. Here's what you could have done." Slowly, Vader showed her what she could have done to win the game. When finished, he sat back and gave Dormé a charming smile.

She rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm done playing for the night. My lady, do you need anything before I retire?"

"No thank you," Padmé replied, looking up from her reading. "Sleep well."

When the handmaiden had gone, Padmé looked over at him. "That wasn't very nice, Anakin."

He gestured to the board. "Play you a game?"

"Not tonight."

"You always say that. 'Not tonight'. Like you've actually considered playing when I know you haven't. You know Padmé, I don't think you taught her the game. I think she was stretching the truth." She didn't rise to the bait, neither denying nor agreeing. He put the game away and joined her on the divan, snatching data pad from her and tossing it aside. "What wasn't very nice?"

Padmé tried to reach across him for the pad, finally sitting back in exasperation when he remained in her way. "It's a game, Anakin. You don't have to win every game."

"On the contrary, my love. I play to win."

"Be nice to Dormé."

"I _am_ nice to Dormé," he protested. "I tell her how she could have won, don't I?" Padmé gasped and moved to stand, but he grasped her, tugged her back down beside him and drew her onto his lap. And then it hit him what was different. He smoothed his fingers down her chest and back up. "You're not wearing the japor snippet I carved for you."

Her hand covered his. "The chain broke. I haven't had time to replace it yet."

Vader loosed his hand from hers and tipped her chin up. He stared into her eyes. She was telling the truth. The chain was broken. He blinked. "We'll buy you a new chain then, hmm?"

He felt a rush of tender feelings for her welling up. She really was beautiful right now, with her hair down, spilling over his arm. He let the feelings grow. So beautiful...

Anakin smiled at Padmé. "The babies are asleep. Dormé's out of the way. What's say we retire for the night ourselves?"

The seriousness left her eyes and Anakin could see her love for him taking it's place. Her hand raised, curved about his neck. The kiss she gave him was tender and sweet and Anakin took his wife into their bedroom.

* * *

No more games. Dormé stood staring out her window, her arms crossed. She wasn't going to play any more games with Anakin. He'd gone from being pleasant while they played to being ruthless in his strategies, as though they were really at war instead of only playing a game. She missed their earlier games and the joking he'd done. She missed that air of relaxation. 

Dormé turned from the window and stepped to the hallway. The apartment was silent. She couldn't sleep. It wouldn't do to wake Padmé because inevitably, she'd end up waking Anakin as well. He was always grouchy when accidentally woken.

Without considering what she was doing, she dressed and threw on a cloak. She'd go out for awhile, take a stroll and work off some of this nervous energy she possessed.

Dormé left the building and not once did she notice Sheltay Retrac behind her in the shadows. Nor did she notice the tall thin man accompanying her.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 10

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Thank you to GemL for the beta work. Any mistakes are mine and not hers.

* * *

The man was exactly where Sheltay had said he'd be, standing staring about as though he had no idea where he was or where he was going. He was humanoid, tall and very thin, with the sort of facial features one could look at and forget a moment later. Sheltay had said he was perfect for the job. 

"Are you lost?"

Bail's question led directly to an affirmative answer that was so long winded it rivaled any of Palpatine's speeches for length. Conscious of anyone watching, Bail asked if he could take this stranger anyplace in particular, since he'd have trouble finding a ride this time of the day. In minutes, they were in the air, Bail driving with no particular destination in mind.

Zoras settled into the passenger seat, making appreciative murmurs over the interior of the vehicle. "Wonderful, simply wonderful. Yes. Lovely woman, your aide, Senator. Quite forceful in her words. And persuasive. Yes. I usually prefer to meet in less public arenas for obvious reasons. Her arguments were, yes, persuasive. Lovely indeed. Shall we begin business, hmm?"

"You understand what I'm asking of you," Bail asked. Sheltay had already briefed the Zoras on what was needed. Bail merely wanted to make certain there were no misunderstandings. He wouldn't want Padmé caught because of this man. He had a feeling she'd definitely be on Anakin's bad side if she was caught trying to leave him.

Zoras nodded, head bobbing up and down, bird-like. "Of course. Four new identities, yes, a private ship, mm-hmm, and a fool proof escape plan ready to be implemented on a timetable no one knows. Yes. An easy task," he ended dryly.

"Can you do it?"

This elicited a tittering laugh of amusement. "I've already helped seven people disappear, hmmm, Senator and I doubt these two women and their children will be the last. Yes. Have no fear, mm-hmm. I'll make arrangements to get them off planet. Once they leave Coruscant however, yes, it'll be their responsibility to remain under the Empire's, hmm, radar." He sobered. "I certainly wouldn't want that Jedi after me. Yes, hmm. Word is he's ruthless. Kills without a thought about it. Yes, kills. Slice, dice and he's done. Just--"

Bail cut him off before he could wax on further about Anakin. The thought of Anakin using his lightsaber to kill Padmé made him faintly ill. "You remember the meeting place?"

"I remember everything, Senator, until I need to forget it, hmm." Long thin fingers gestured in the air.

"You will forget this conversation then. We never spoke."

"What conversation Senator? Yes. I'm grateful you took pity on a lost visitor to lovely, hmm, Coruscant and gave me a ride. I believe I see my destination. Yes. Let me out right over there if you don't mind, hmm?" He pointed and Bail steered to the landing pad. In minutes, he was alone and speeding back towards his apartment.

Please, he thought. Let this plan work. I don't want Padmé's blood on my hands.

* * *

Today was going to be the day. 

Vader took his son from Padmé, lifted him right away from her arms. The boy began to twist. A tiny whimper grew into a wail. Vader ignored it. Today was going to be the day his son laid quiet in his embrace and that was final. That was how it was going to be.

He rocked the boy, paced about the bedroom, conscious of his wife tense on their bed, covers pooled about her hips. Her nightgown slid down one shoulder, baring it. He wasn't tempted by her though. He had other matters on his mind. There was going to be quiet time with his son. He wanted it. He needed it. He _demanded_ it. It was going to come about one way or another.

Dormé came into the room. Helpful Dormé already dressed for the day. Already ready to take charge. So helpful. So _irritating_ with her controlled manner, as though she was laughing at his inability to quiet a tiny child. She was, wasn't she? Laughing, snickering behind his back. Wouldn't be the first time she'd laughed at him. He recalled a time once before in this very room when she'd let loose the most _amused_ laugh. Tinkling and soft. He could almost see the barest of smirks on her lips. Dormé was always so very amused by him.

Vader gritted his teeth, banishing the memory of her laugh. "Be quiet," he ordered the baby.

"Has he been changed, yet," Dormé asked.

He ignored the question, keeping his attention on his son. "Stop crying." The boy screamed louder. Grating cries, scraping across his skin as a knife. Vader lifted little Annie in his hands, held him out and at eye level. "You will stop crying."

Dormé was speaking again, coming to him, reaching for his son. "He's always grouchy in the mornings. Let me calm him for you, Anakin. "

Vader's eyes narrowed. That's what always happened wasn't it? Dormé and Padmé taking the children, not letting him have a chance to hold them. They constantly kept the babies out of his arms. If one wasn't holding them, the other was. They leapt to take them the second Annie and Shmi began to cry, as though it wasn't possible for the children to quiet after a few minutes. It wasn't possible that the twins only needed a moment to know their father, since he barely got to hold them at all since the day they were born.

They didn't really know him and it was all the women's fault. Dormé and Padmé both. They were at fault. Not him. They were set to keep him from his children. They wanted to deny him his rights as father.

He'd show them both. His son would stop crying -- without their help.

"No," he answered her, but she kept standing there, kept reaching for his son.

"Just for a moment. Let me calm him." She gave a placating smile, the sort he'd seen his wife use when she was humoring someone.

"I said no." Her fingers brushed his. Vader gritted his teeth tighter, until he was certain the grinding sound was loud enough for all to hear.

"I'll take him and you can --"

He turned his head to look at her. Temper exploded, fiery trails consuming him, the flames of it licking about his limbs. Boiling. Burning. Always consuming.

* * *

"I said no!" Anakin shouted and Padmé watched, helpless, as Dormé clutched at her throat, struggling for breath. She remembered that Force grip all too well. She remembered the horror of having her throat close and the black dots that swam on the vision. She recalled the clarity of the moment, when she'd seen her husband for what he'd become. 

"Anakin, stop!" She tried to extricate herself from the covers, but they twisted about her as though alive, keeping her trapped.

Dormé's body lifted, flew backwards. She hit the wall. There was audible thump of her head striking it and then she crumpled to the floor, gasping and wheezing and finally still, her eyes open wide. Padmé could see the terror on her face as she stared at Anakin, the disbelief and at last, acceptance.

He hadn't even needed to lift his hand, not like on Mustafar.

Anakin returned his attention to little Annie. "You will stop crying," he repeated in an even tone. Yet there was anger remaining in his gaze and Padmé threw herself towards the end of the bed, scrambling to reach him. Horrible visions assailed her of little Annie gasping for breath as her handmaiden had just done, his little face turning blue from lack of oxygen.

"No! You will not choke my child! Give him to me! Now, Anakin!" She held out her hands, nearly close enough to grab Annie from him. One more inch...

He took a step back, voice cold. "_Your_ child, my love?" His arms lowered, hands bringing Annie close to him, cradling him in one arm. "That's funny, because I thought it took both of us."

Tears wet her face. "Anakin please," Padmé whispered. She could hear Dormé gasping and coughing, tiny moans leaving her throat. "Let me have him." Her hands shook wildly.

Anakin took another step away from her. "All I want is a quiet moment with my son and every female in this apartment is determined to keep me from having it. Determined to keep me from my son. First Dormé, oh so helpful, and now you. I will _not_ give him to you."

Little Annie went silent.

The change in Anakin was instantaneous. His lips turned up in a grin as he looked at little Annie. "There. You see? He likes me. Quiet. Patience was all I needed." He chuckled, pleased with himself. "Now, I'm taking my son on an outing. Your presence is not required." His grin lingered as he strode to Dormé, holding a hand out to her.

"I only wanted to help," she said in a raw, halting whisper. Her hair was a tangled mass over her shoulder, having slipped from its pins when she'd fallen to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Dormé," he replied, no hint of remorse in his voice at all. Anakin beckoned to her. "Give me your hand, I'll help you up."

Dormé sobbed, shook her head, pushing herself up onto her knees. "I don't..."

"Give me your hand."

"No, oh no..." She shied back from that hand he'd held out.

"Give it here."

Padmé could hear the impatience returning to Anakin's voice and gave Dormé a nod. No one could have missed the cringing shudder she gave as Anakin's hand closed about hers. He tugged her not gently to her feet.

"Are you all right, Dormé?" Parody of concern.

She bowed her head, not looking at him. "I'm fine."

"Ooh," he cooed. "Did I frighten you?"

Padmé watched her glance flick to him, then little Annie and back to the floor.

"So, so sorry." Anakin turned on his heel. "We'll be back later."

As soon as he was gone from sight, Dormé slid back to the floor, falling heavily, her sobs coming freely. Her shoulders shook and Padmé grabbed a blanket, taking it to her. She wrapped it about her friend, hugging her.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't know. I never --" Her hands covered her face.

Padmé rocked her like she rocked her children, back and forth, slow and even. Soothing, gently rubbing Dormé's back. "I know. He can be very charming when he wants."

Suddenly, Dormé clutched at her, fingers digging into Padmé's arm so hard they hurt. "His eyes. I saw his eyes. My lady... They were..." She broke off, shaking her head.

"I know. Believe me, I already know."

They remained that way until Shmi woke, Padmé comforting her friend.

* * *

He got as far as the building entrance before little Annie began squirming again. The longest stretch so far. Vader paused. 

"Stop crying," he ordered, which of course made the baby screech louder. Retreating back inside the building, he cradled the boy to him, once more trying to calm him. He paced, swayed, attempted to mimic that movement his wife used to soothe them. It didn't work.

He stilled, an ache forming across his brow from those shrill cries, staring down at his son. How was it that he could face enemies in battle, fearlessly pilot his ship in places no one else dared to go and use the Force to move objects and yet he couldn't get his children to calm down? Orders did no good, as the babies only cried louder and the more upset he became, the louder their cries! He sighed.

Vader searched his memory for anything he'd read on the subject and came up blank. There were plenty of experts that spoke on children crying and none had dealt with the sort of crying he faced from his children. What to do?

Gritting his teeth, he sank onto a bench, closed his eyes and gave those tender feelings for his children room to stretch out. Switching little Annie into his real arm's embrace, he stroked his mechanical forefinger over the boy's cheeks.

"Shh Annie. It's okay. Please stop crying. Just for a moment. Please."

As if in response to the much softer tone, the cries abated. Little Annie squirmed, blinked and kept squirming. Was he holding him too tightly? Perhaps he was over warm? Anakin eased his grip, opened the boy's collar.

Little Annie settled down.

"There," Anakin whispered with a little smile. "We get along just fine, don't we? Me and you. Me and my son. You know, I was terrified for your mother when you were in her belly, but she's okay. Nothing happened to her." Annie sighed, snuggling against him. Anakin felt tears in his eyes and blinked. He'd wanted to hold his children for so long now that he couldn't express his joy in it.

This child was his. This boy was his son. A bit of him and a bit of Padmé.

"You're my son."

His commlink chirped. Anakin ignored it, reluctant to give up the moment.

"I'm your father." A laugh left him and he shook his head. "I have a family."

The commlink would not stop chirping.

Anakin licked his lips, rocking little Annie.

How much time passed? He didn't know. He sat on that hard bench holding his son, enjoying the moment. After awhile, he ceased to notice the commlink and the incessant noises it made. Anakin was with his son and nothing else was close to that in importance. His son was what mattered.

One guard came towards him from across the lobby. "Sir?"

Anakin looked up, annoyed at the intrusion. "What?"

"There's a transmission for you in the office." The man gulped audibly. "It's the Emperor."

Vader stood. "I'll return in a few minutes." The boy was taken back upstairs.

Palpatine's message was clear. He waited on no one. Vader would answer when he was called or face the consequences. If he kept his Master waiting one more time... Well, Vader got the thrust of the threat. He balled his hands into fists and stalked from the building.

* * *

Dormé made her way to Padmé's favorite shop on the pretense of picking up swatches of fabric for a few new dresses. The mention of this put Anakin in a good mood. He was pleased Padmé planned to have more clothes made. He suggested she have 'something sensational' created for her, a one of a kind dress. Something to wear when they took over from Palpatine. A coronation dress. 

He was surprisingly open with his plans, not bothering to guard his tongue around her and Dormé decided he still thought her an ally, as though his choking her hadn't changed a thing. Obviously nothing _had_ changed in his view, as he still asked about Padmé each morning and continued to win at that game each night.

Three long weeks had passed since that day and Dormé found herself rarely saying anything to him if she could help it. How did her lady do it? How did she sleep beside that man each night, not to mention let him put his hands on her? Everything was startlingly clear to her now and she could not forgive herself for those first couple months.

She stepped into the shop, let her gaze travel the wondrous displays of fabrics. So many offerings. This shop held fabrics from all over the galaxy and the seamstresses were the best that could be found. Padmé had needed to be recommended to the shop in order to have clothes made for her there. Luckily, Bail Organa's wife had sent the recommendation when Padmé was still serving as Queen of Naboo. Padmé bought clothes here almost exclusively.

Dormé loved the shop almost as much as her lady did. She'd spent many a credit here, indulging herself in the sumptuous fabrics and taking them to a lesser known seamstress.

She took a deep breath and again looked about, this time for Sheltay Retrac. She was meeting Sheltay here. It would appear a chance meeting of two women who worked for friends. Dormé knew someone had to be following her. Anakin wouldn't not have her under surveillance, not when he had Padmé under guard at all hours.

"Dormé?" Sheltay's voice carried across the room, but no one even glanced up from browsing the fabric racks. "What are you doing here today?"

She watched Sheltay's tall, elegant figure coming towards her and let some of the tension along her back slip away. "Padmé wants a few new dresses. She sent me to pick out swatches."

"Ahh. I take it she's busy with those babies?"

"Extremely." They began walking the aisles, waving away the lone salesman who approached them, making small talk all the while. They covered what Padmé was up to, what was new on Alderaan and how utterly terrible it was that some worlds continued to pick fights. Slowly, they worked their way to the back of the store, behind the taller, ceremonial fabrics. The racks hid them from view.

Sheltay steered her towards the design room. "I'm here to take a final look at a few designs. Care to see them?"

Apparently, Sheltay's errand wasn't fabricated like Dormé's, for she called up several drawings the second they were alone, talking animatedly and in rather a silly, empty-headed fashion about each one as she slipped a datapad from her belt. Dormé looked at it, at what had been planned. Everything was set up.

They could leave as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Sheltay took the datapad back. "Do you approve, Dormé?

"Excellent work," she replied.

"I think so. The work of an artist. Well designed. All that's needed now is the word to go ahead."

They exited the room, parting company in the aisles. Dormé bought several swatches at random and as she was exiting the shop, she heard Sheltay's voice once more, continuing their charade.

"I'll contact you when they're done, Dormé. You can see them first."

With a cheerful wave, Sheltay turned away and Dormé stepped out into the sunlight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: When Angels Weep  
****Author: kasey8473  
Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.  
Chapter: 11  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.**

**

* * *

**The words were casual, as they'd always been, brief mentions here and there of visitors to the apartment when he wasn't there. Male visitors. His Master mentioned that quite a lot in recent days, always so surprised by Vader's reaction. Didn't Vader know that his wife...entertained? Oh, no reason to be grumpy about it was there? Perhaps she was merely planning a surprise for him as a wife sometimes did. He shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't important. 

Old suspicions arose inside him, those insecurities he'd constantly harbored that Padmé did not really love him after all. He told himself he was being ridiculous. She did love him and yet... The idea that she was carrying on with some other man would not leave his head.

"What is bothering you, Vader," Palpatine asked in an oily voice. "Surely not my little slip of the tongue? Is it something else?"

"It's Padmé," Vader confirmed.

"Ahh." Palpatine gave a wise nod of his head. "She was already on your mind then. Tell me what the matter is."

Vader paused, then shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

His Master leaned forward in his chair, not acknowledging Vader's preference. "Tell me, did you inform her of your departure tomorrow?" At Vader's nod, Palpatine continued. "And what did she say? Did she hold you close and tell you she'd miss you as she has always done?"

No. His wife had not held him, nor had she told him how very much she was going to miss him. Why not? Was she planning to...entertain? He shifted in his seat, the line of thought making him uncomfortable.

"Or did she appear unconcerned by being parted from you for an entire week?"

Unconcerned. Yes, that described her reaction exactly. She was far too calm. Nonchalant. He recalled a time when she'd tried to entice him to stay a little while longer when they'd both known duty called him.

But not this time. This time, she merely nodded, her expression cool, as though she wouldn't miss him at all.

"I'm sure she'll miss you terribly. She is, after all, a most _devoted_ spouse."

Whatever the conversation was after that, he didn't know. He tuned everything else out, his thoughts returning to Padmé and how she entertained men when he was away. How she wasn't going to miss him. And how she didn't really love him at all.

Anger stirred, ever glowing embers sparking to flame.

* * *

In his chair, Palpatine allowed a small smile to turn his lips. Really, Vader was quite predictable when it came to Padmé. Anakin had fallen for the same ploy once before. That playing upon his fears of betrayal, on his jealousy. 

Of course, Padmé had few visitors at all anymore and Palpatine was quite aware that she was never alone with anyone. But Vader didn't know that and Padmé's innocent actions would appear to damn her.

He'd been fishing with that question of her reaction to Vader's trip. Oh, how well it had worked! So, she showed no emotion. How interesting. He'd have to ponder the meaning of that awhile.

Palpatine dismissed Vader, letting the boy stew in his fears.

* * *

Anakin paced the room, his breaths harsh. After a moment, he spoke once more, his voice strained from the shouting he'd already done. "Don't you even care that I'll be gone an entire week? A full week, Padmé, not a few hours. You used to care." 

Padmé sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. Ever since he'd come home tonight, he'd been going on about this trip and her reaction to it. "Anakin..."

He paused in his pacing to stare at her. The hurt and pain in his eyes bewildered her. She didn't know where it had come from, where his idea that she was running around on him had come from. "You claim to love me and yet what sort of reaction do you show for my being gone more than a day? Nothing. No reaction at all except a nod. A _nod_, Padmé. Nonchalant, as though you could care less. I remember when you would throw your arms around me and tell me a minute away from me was an eternity. You'd beg me not to leave." A knick-knack went flying, thudding against the wall.

His lower lip was quivering from his effort to hold back his emotions. Padmé hugged herself. She didn't want to get into this with him, not again. Not another accusation. Not another minute of this argument that had already gone on too long as it was. She felt a tension headache forming, relentless pressure along her brow. "I _will_ miss you, Anakin. How many times do I have to say it?"

"You'll miss me? Really. Before or after your meetings with _friends_?" He snorted. "You think I don't know? You think I'm not aware what you're up to when I'm not here?"

"Up to? Anakin, you're talking nonsense!" Padmé shook her head. She was fast losing her own temper with his relentless questioning on the topic. "I have never been unfaithful to you, not once!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I've never considered it. Ever. You're my _husband_. I took vows to be faithful to you alone and I have been."

"I know you have a friend," he said, ignoring her words. "That is what he's called to be polite, yes? A friend, as though a man who'd sleep with another man's wife is any sort of friend."

"You know it's not true. You know I'm not..." Her sobs welled up, covering over the rest of her sentence. Her own anger was near to boiling and those tears she shed were from it, not sorrow. Why wouldn't he listen to her?

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Crying is blackmail. Stop it, Padmé."

Down the hall, one of the babies woke and began to cry.

"You stop it," she shouted, fists balled with her frustration. "I've done nothing to warrant accusations and you know it!"

"Dormé is meeting a man," he returned. "She's been meeting him all this week. Tell me that isn't suspicious. Chaste Dormé who never sees anyone suddenly meeting with a man." He spread his arms wide. "I'm set to leave and all week she's been out seeing him, always coming back so secretive. Who is he? An intermediary for another? Is she arranging trysts for you now like she once did for you and me? Is _she_ trying to take you from me now?"

"No. There's no one. You know that, Anakin!"

He strode to her, hands cupping her face tight, hurting. Padmé pried at them, nails digging in, drawing blood on his real hand. "You almost convince me."

"Let go of me." When he made no move to do so, Padmé stopped prying at his hands, instead she reached up to claw at his face. Anakin leaned back, deftly turning her so the she was helpless with her back to his chest. "Let go of me," she repeated through clenched teeth, still struggling though his grip was immobilizing, the embrace bruising.

The child's cry was now a piercing wail. Anakin's lips caressed her temple. "I will never let you go, Padmé."

The pronouncement held meaning on a deeper level than this embrace, made quite clear when he shoved her hard enough from him that she stumbled against the divan.

"Take care of Shmi before she makes herself sick again."

She turned her head, staring up at him. She wanted to continue, to make him listen to _her_ for once, but Padmé knew she needed a moment to calm herself. Not only that, but he needed a moment. At the rate this was escalating, she'd be choked to death on the floor by bedtime and that certainly wouldn't do now would it?

Padmé made her way into the children's room and concentrated on soothing her daughter.

* * *

Dormé was certain she was going to be caught. Zoras was certain she wasn't. In his roundabout way, he assured her that she shouldn't worry so much. Their meetings appeared to be those of secret lovers. Why, all the man following her would find of Zoras was a harmless fake identity. She should relax. 

But she couldn't. Her constant wariness of Anakin was draining. She no longer slept much at night, her mind refusing to relinquish the sensation of her throat closing and of Anakin's unrepentant stare.

"Tomorrow, yes, we'll meet tomorrow, hmm? Your employer and the rest will, hmm, be ready to leave, yes? The one she flees will be leaving, yes?"

Anakin was going on a longer trip this time. Palpatine had ordered Anakin to oversee the beginning construction of a battle station and report back in a week. Her lady had accepted Anakin's announcement in the same manner she'd accepted previous announcements. With a nod.

They were leaving. Finally. Dormé kept her distance from Anakin, not wishing to give away anything of their plans. No fear of that in reality. Anakin was far more focused on his wife than on her handmaiden.

"The one she flees?"

Dormé turned her head, looking up at him. She forced herself to smile and lean closer to him, giving the impression to the man who followed that she wanted time alone with her companion. Zoras' glance was sly. "Yes?"

"She flees the Jedi, yes? The one who, yes, slices and, hmmm, kills? I'm not stupid, little handmaiden, hmmm. I know who she is. Pretty little, yes, Senator from, hmm, Naboo." Before Dormé could become alarmed, his expression softened, some of mercenary coolness fading away. "My wife, yes long gone, hmm, was from Naboo. Tomorrow, you go safely, yes, away."

He left her at the entrance to Padmé's favorite café, pressing a kiss for show so close to her mouth that from a distance it would look as though he'd kissed her. She had to grit her teeth to keep from wiping it away right then, managing to wait until she was back in the apartment. Dormé swept her thumb across the spot of flesh. Her heart skipped a beat when Anakin's voice came from around the corner, husky, as though he'd been screaming.

"What are you up to, Dormé? Kissing strange men in public?"

Taking a few steps, she found him standing by the window, his arms crossed. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. She didn't know if he was angry or indifferent or anything else. She undid her cloak and shrugged. "I had a dinner engagement. Padmé approved it. She said you'd be back not long after I had to leave."

Anakin gave a soft laugh that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. "You didn't have dinner with him." His gaze found hers.

She swallowed hard. Anakin crossed to her, disregarding the notion of personal space. He stared down at her, eyes narrowed, so close she felt as though she was going to topple backwards if he leaned closer a single inch. For a long moment, he didn't speak, relishing her discomfort.

"You didn't have anything to eat with anyone or even by yourself. You didn't duck into a restaurant at all. A few minutes in a couple of shops and that was it. Mostly, you just walked with your...date."

Dormé remained silent, forcing herself to breath slowly. The apartment was so silent. Still. Where was Padmé? And the children?

"What are you up to," he repeated. When she didn't answer right away, his brows raised. "Dormé," he prompted.

Her hands began to perspire and she grasped her cloak tightly. "Nothing. I needed a couple hours to attend to personal matters and Padmé--"

"You were hired to be a bodyguard among other things. Since I am now in charge of security arrangements, you will now report to me, not my wife. If you need time off, you will ask me. No more of this leaving when you feel like it. Padmé has been far too lenient with you since Ellé and Moteé died."

Dormé straightened her back. "My _lady_ hired me, Anakin, not you. I will report to her alone."

His slow grin was taunting. "Ahh, but I control the finances. Report to me or you will not be paid."

"Then I'll work for free."

The blue of his eyes was very bright. His lips tightened. "Tell me about the man you met."

She shook her head. "It's not your business." Inside, Dormé was trembling. Still, she defied his order.

"Everything that concerns anyone living in this apartment is my business. I want his name and particulars. Now. You'll give them to me."

"Leave her alone, Anakin," Padmé said from the doorway, her voice sharp. Tension rose in the room, unpleasant and rough. Dormé stumbled back from Anakin. Something had happened while she was out and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what. "You're upset with _me_, not Dormé."

"Wrong," he corrected. "I'm upset with both of you. Keeping secrets. Dormé running around Coruscant with a stranger. People visiting when I'm away."

She saw Padmé roll her eyes in frustration. "Say what you mean, Anakin. Men, not people. Men. Phantom men, because I don't have male visitors when you're not here. I'm a faithful wife who loves her husband even when he's accusing her of running around on him. Ask her. Ask Dormé. Tell her what you accused her of when she wasn't even here to defend herself. Hmm? Why don't you just ask the droids? Ask the security staff you've had spying on us every waking hour for months. Surely one of them is trustworthy." Padmé paused to take a breath and Anakin jumped in.

"Ask Dormé? Very well, my love, we'll do it that way. Dormé." His attention returned to her and she flinched. "Are you helping my wife to cheat on me?"

"What? No!" She shook her head, the movement emphatic. "I'd never..."

"You'd better not be lying to me."

Padmé answered him. "No one _here_ is lying to you, Anakin. The only one who's lying is the one filling your head with this garbage and we both know who that person is don't we? Your favorite politician, the one you murdered Jedi for--"

Padmé took several stumbling steps backwards as Anakin's head turned towards her. He pointed a finger at her, then balled his fists and gave a low guttural cry. There was the sound of glass exploding somewhere in the apartment and Anakin turned on his heel, striding from the room.

After a moment, Padmé sighed. "Please don't ask."

Dormé didn't. She could guess now what had happened.

* * *

Vader stormed the Temple, the one place no one cared if he vented his anger and frustration. Most of the elegant rooms were no longer so, artwork broken and splintered on the floors, machinery long destroyed. As long as he hadn't harmed anything Palpatine considered important, he was given leave to do as he pleased with the Temple. And so he had. 

When his anger became too much for him, he came here. Vader had gone to each room, looked through belongings and destroyed many of them. He'd let his anger take a hold of him.

"No," he shouted. "No, no, no!"

A chair went flying, breaking to pieces from the impact with the wall and leaving a dent that wouldn't be repaired. And so, Vader worked through the rage that now gripped him until it finally abated and he fell to his hands and knees, panting, crying, hiccoughing. He felt...drained.

Anakin opened his eyes, barely able to focus though the sheen of tears. All around him he heard that staticky babble of voices, that same noise whenever he came here. A puzzling thing he couldn't tune himself to. He'd tried everything he could think of to bring those voices into clarity and each try left him frustrated. Occasionally, he could make out a word or two, or even his name, but never more than that.

Sometimes he felt a presence with him, sensed it like the presence he often sensed in the apartment with Padmé. It teased at him. He knew he should know it and like the voices, clarity escaped him. Something kept him from knowing.

Anakin choked, tasting bile, and swallowed hard, wiping the back of one hand across his mouth. What had brought him here today? Many things. More killing, more demands of Palpatine's and insinuations that his wife entertained visitors when he wasn't around. His own idea that Dormé aided her in deception.

But there was never any male presence in the apartment anymore aside from that phantom one. Not to mention that security told him whenever she left and followed her the entire while she was out. The only one who ever met with anyone was Dormé and she'd been seen with a tall thin man that called her 'my dear' in a loud drawling, booming voice.

He sobbed.

His children hated him. What other conclusion could he draw from their constant reactions to him? Aside from that one time holding his son, the two children had continued to scream when he was around.

His wife feared him. He'd seen that emotion reflected in her eyes more times than he could count since Mustafar. It was always a quick flash, but he knew it was there. Padmé feared him.

"How did this happen?"

How did he go from being a beloved husband to being a man his own family tiptoed around? When had he ceased to be what he should have been for them?

The babble increased, a whirling din that seemed to echo in the large chamber. There was a surge of the Force and then he felt it. _It_. A presence, familiar to him. A presence _known_. It was comforting and grating at the same time. Anakin's head raised, left hand trembling. The voices coalesced, became one clear voice, a whisper through his emotions.

No. It couldn't be.

Obi-Wan's voice.

I'm so sorry, Anakin.

He could almost see the sadness on his former Master's face, the blue eyes resigned as he stood over Anakin, staring down at him. Was this a memory? Was he remembering a time in the past, because he saw Obi-Wan standing before him, his body see-through and shimmering with faint light. He looked like a holoimage.

I've failed you, Anakin. It won't happen again. I promise you, my brother.

Anakin's tremors increased, shaking taking over his entire body as anger and regret warred inside him for a foothold. His mind was not his own, he knew that now, but as long as he could hang on...

Your eyes are closed.

The remaining unbroken objects in the room began to rattle with movement, a crack beginning to split the wall furthest from him. The tapestries adorning the walls fluttered as though whipped about by an invisible hand. Obi-Wan's image slowly backed away and Anakin almost swore he saw a sheen of tears on the figure's cheeks.

I'm sorry, Anakin. You **are** blind.

The voice split back into several now, crescendoing louder and louder. Anakin grabbed at his head, rocked back and forth.

"No, no, no!" Anakin's breaths would not level out, panicky and quick. "You're not real! I killed you! I killed you all!"

Silence, like all sound had been shut off. The Jedi Temple became as a tomb, dead and icy, that presence gone. There was nothing there. No sense of peace lingering about the building. It was dead. Truly. The Jedi Temple was now only another building to him. Anakin collapsed fully onto the floor, resting his flushed, wet cheek on the tile. He was cold, so very achingly cold. Alone.

And he'd killed them all. One by one these past weeks, he'd hunted down those who'd remained alive that he'd called friends and colleagues. One by one, he'd killed them all.

Slowly, as he cried, Anakin pulled tighter, deeper into his own mind. In his anguish for what he had done, he gave Vader room to grow and like a parasite inside him, Vader grew.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 12

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

**

* * *

**

He was contrite, sincerely so, sitting on the divan across from her much like he had on their first meeting after a ten year parting. His hands were hidden in the folds of his robe sleeves and he perched on the edge of the cushion. "I'm sorry, Padmé."

There was more sincerity in his voice than there had been in weeks and Padmé believed him. This time, he was genuinely sorry. She smoothed the folds of her skirt.

"You were right," he continued, raising his gaze just a little and quickly dropping it down before it could meet hers. She knew how difficult this was for him, this apology. "I had no real reason to accuse you."

"Then why did you?"

His lips parted and she was surprised by the pleading tone of his next words. "When I'm with you, everything is right. I'm whole, but when we're parted for even a moment..." He paused, appearing to brace himself to finish his thoughts, that tone disappearing. "My mind begins to imagine the worst. It focuses on negatives. They build and build." Anakin looked at her directly now. "I know I've been irrational. I apologize for that."

Irrational. The definition of that word did not fully encompass his behavior. It barely covered it.

Padmé said nothing and after a moment, Anakin frowned. She saw annoyance flash across his gaze, ripple along the lean line of his body.

"Well," he asked.

"Well, what?"

Scooting back on the seat, he snorted. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Like what? What would you have me say?"

"Maybe that you forgive me. That would be nice, my love."

She blinked, tilted her head a little at the defensive tone. "Are you trying to start another fight?"

He went silent, finally shaking his head. "No. I don't want to fight with you. I just want to know that you've accepted my apology."

Padmé shrugged. "Fine. Accepted."

Smiling, he got up and came to her, sitting beside her and stretching an arm along the divan back. "There. No more talking about it. We'll leave it at that."

And that was one problem, she decided. Anakin didn't want to face anything that might hurt him emotionally. He ignored things instead, internalizing them until his emotions exploded. Issues didn't go away simply because one didn't wish to discuss them. They didn't go away because a person closed their ears to the truth of a matter. "No more fighting tonight."

The remainder of the evening was slow, as though time decided to crawl along rather than march at its usual pace. They ate a late dinner and afterward, Anakin turned to his favorite pastime of late: trying to get Padmé to play the battle game. He pleaded, he cajoled. He promised to bring her back a present from his trip. Where he was going to buy her something was another matter entirely since he wasn't going near any shops.

"Please, Padmé. A game before I go tomorrow morning. One game. Show me the skill Dormé once boasted of you having. Then I can remember it all week."

Padmé swayed, rocking Shmi. Slowly, she considered whether or not to grant his request. Why not? Why not show him how well she knew how to play this game? Was there any reason to continue her reluctance? Padmé nodded. "Okay, Anakin. We'll match wits. Set up the board the rest of the way while I put Shmi to bed."

In the nursery, Dormé, tending to Annie, kept her voice low. "What do you think you're doing, my lady? Don't _play_ him." A double meaning to cautious words.

"Shh." Padmé tucked her daughter in and touched her fingers to little Annie's cheek. "He wants to play a game, Dormé, so I'll play. Relax. It's a game, nothing more."

"It's no longer just a game to him. Don't you see that? He takes it so seriously. Any hint of his opponent winning and he--"

Turning, she grasped her friend's arms. Dormé was becoming far too upset. "Compose yourself. You're stronger than this. Don't let it make you fall apart. I need your strength in addition to my own."

After a moment, Dormé nodded. "I will, my lady. Please, be careful."

Anakin was ready when Padmé returned, such easy confidence in his manner. He was good at battle strategy, she knew that. He wasn't called a hero for nothing. The Clone Wars had honed his command skills and he'd become casual in them. He knew when to retreat and when to advance and when to do really nothing at all.

They talked little, Padmé keeping diligent attention upon both their forces laid out. He was an aggressive player, quick and decisive, but Padmé was no slouch herself. She'd been playing this game since she was old enough to begin grasping the rules. Their match went on long past her usual bedtime. She was determined to not make it easy for him. His win couldn't be effortless. She wanted him to have to think about what he did.

She surveyed the board, saw something he had not covered. His command pieces were alone, separated from the bulk of his army. Scattered, yes, but alone. In slow degrees, Padmé split her own pieces, closing in on his in random turns, as though she was tiring and losing her concentration. He gave her a puzzled stare. Padmé could almost hear his thoughts, those wonderings if she was really tiring.

Anakin's efforts remained on her command center, ignoring the outer fringes of playing pieces, and then...

Padmé stared at the board, a glimmer of satisfaction working through her. She'd succeeded in her play. In two moves, no matter what he did, she could win. She could level his army and he didn't even notice. That was obvious to her. Anakin didn't notice her strategy. He'd been the one out in real battles, yet he hadn't seen the strategy she used. He was oblivious.

Reaching out her hand, Padmé made a deliberate movement in her command center...and threw the game.

Anakin was the victor by her design and he didn't seem to see it, to notice that she'd let him win.

She sat back, stretching and yawning. "Oh, I'm tired," she exclaimed, arching her back and letting the neckline of her gown slip down. A blatant attempt to divert his attention from his usual habit of revisiting the final moments of the game in triumph. It worked, Anakin's eyes lifting from the board and staying trained upon her as she wiggled and stretched.

"Not a bad game," he remarked, standing and reaching out a hand for her. "When I return, we'll have a rematch."

Padmé nodded. "Yes," she agreed slowly. "We'll...rematch." Grasping his hand, she made certain her neckline slipped even lower, giving him a flirtatious grin. "And now, perhaps I can entice you--"

He needed no encouragement.

* * *

Anakin felt her anxiety, her fear, and held her to him. Relief flooded him. He'd been silly jumping to conclusions like he had the day before. This woman loved him. She always had and always would. 

Padmé trembled against him, arms tight about him and he gently loosed her.

"This is routine, my love. No fighting, no danger, just boring construction and dry reports to read." Anakin was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. It had been a long time since she'd cried when seeing him off. He wiped them away. "The days will fly by."

"I know."

That seemed to make her tears come faster, her anxiety growing. He touched her hair, buried his fingers in the soft curls. "I wish I didn't have to go for a whole week."

Sadness rippled across her beautiful features. Padmé threw herself back against him, nearly toppling him over. "Hold me," she gasped, burying her face in the front of his tunic.

Anakin allowed the embrace for a long moment, then loosed her once more. "I have to go."

"Kiss me. Please. Once more before you're gone."

He obliged her, putting all of his love for her in it. Then, before she could pull him back to her, he strode to the speeder and climbed in. "You'll really miss me," he said, still feeling anxiety, fear and now a measure of sorrow from her. Her true feelings, unleashed and laid bare before him. She loved him and she would miss him. His beautiful Padmé.

Padmé clasped her hands together at her chest. "I will miss you with all of my heart each day that we are parted."

With a final, lingering glance, Anakin sped away. An hour later, Vader boarded a ship and left Coruscant.

* * *

Padmé stared into the drawer. Nestled among his clothes was Anakin's old lightsaber. He'd recently constructed a new one with a red blade, quite pleased to put away the old one. Reaching down, she picked it up. He'd once given her a crash course on how not to handle a lightsaber if she came upon one sitting about and she remembered his teaching now, setting it carefully in one of her old scarves and wrapping it up. She placed it in the day bag she used for those many things one had to take when going out with a baby. He wouldn't miss the old one, if he even thought to take it out at all. 

Her plan was in place. She was going to take Artoo and Threepio to a shop for maintenance. They didn't need it, of course. Threepio's memory was to be wiped and then the two droids would be transported to the ship Zoras had waiting. Of the two droids, only Artoo would know the truth. They'd meet Zoras at a prearranged place in a few hours and once off Coruscant, she and Dormé would hide. They'd take the babies to safety. Threepio for Shmi and Anakin's old lightsaber for little Annie. Something of their father for both of them.

It was only right.

"My lady, hurry," Dormé hissed. "We don't have time for you to keep stalling like this."

Padmé sighed, straightening her back in an effort to strengthen her flagging will. Did she really want to go? No. She didn't want to go, she _had_ to. To save her children and her Annie, she had to go.

"My lady!"

Returning to the front room, Padmé watched Dormé trying to keep both of the babies from squirming out of her arms. The sensation that she was forgetting something important nagged at her, but her mind was too busy thinking on her escape plans and on her sorrow to fully consider it. This apartment held so many memories for her. Good and bad both. Goodbye had come both too slowly and too quickly and she could not believe the day was finally here.

Padmé stared down at the game board, still set up from the night before. Reaching down, she lifted her endangered piece, the same one she'd deliberately placed into jeopardy from Anakin's army. She slipped it into the bag and with a deep breath, left the apartment for the last time.

* * *

Bail Organa was surprised when Padmé burst into his office, causing a mild scene as she did so. She had Dormé, the twins and the two droids with her. He rose from his chair, bewildered by her manner and by the unusual panic he saw on her face. Padmé didn't panic. It just didn't happen. She was calm and collected and something must be very wrong for her to show her fear. 

"Bail, you have to help me! No one believes me. Security says I'm imagining things."

He went to her, motioned for an equally puzzled Sheltay to close the door. "Padmé," began carefully. "What's wrong?"

"I'm being followed. I can't go anywhere without a man behind me. I can't..." Leave, she mouthed and Bail understood. Padmé couldn't get off-planet while being followed. Today was the day then.

He exchanged a glance with Sheltay. Determination gleamed in her eyes and with a nod, his aide was out the door. Bail had every confidence that she'd create an appropriate diversion. "Sit down a minute. Now explain a bit more what's going on."

She wiped at her eyes and he realized she was angry as well as panicked. "Dormé and I left the apartment to run errands and Threepio made a comment about a man behind us. He'd been with us the entire time we were walking, never looking away from us. Following us. Bail, I can't do anything with a stranger on my tail!"

He held up a hand. "I can have one of my men confront the stranger. Take a different way out of the building and be about your day. I'll send some of my own guards to protect you. It'll be fine, Padmé. Relax."

Padmé nodded, relief on her features. Bail and several of his own security staff escorted her group to the lobby, where she quietly pointed out the man. In minutes, the man was being questioned, Bail's staff carefully following Padmé to ensure there were no others tailing her. After all the hard work arranging this, Bail thought, it wouldn't do for her to be caught.

The man who'd been following Padmé approached him, voice sharp as he read Bail's guard a riot act. "I was hired by Anakin Skywalker to see to the safety of his wife when she is outside the apartment. I certainly hope you can explain my failure to protect her when he learns of this."

"A misunderstanding," Bail said in a soothing voice. "Perhaps if Padmé had been aware of the necessity--"

"He didn't want to alarm her. And now I've got to tell him when he returns that I lost track of her."

"He'll understand the misunderstanding. That's all it was. I'm sure Padmé will be fine for a few hours. When she returns safe and sound, you'll not have to tell him, will you?"

"Understand?" The man chuckled. "How well do you know him, Senator? Failure is no option." With a final, curt nod, the man strode away and an explosion ripped through one wall of the building, bringing chaos in its wake.

There were screams and panic, people milling about as security rushed to the area. Bail saw Sheltay coming towards him. Her expression was blank, neutral. She stopped before him and gave a slow nod. Bail's glance strayed to the damage the explosion had caused. It was nothing horrible, mild structural damage and no injuries that he could see.

He squared his shoulders. "Well then, I'd say our workday is finished. An explosion disrupts everything. I'm a bit shaken, aren't you?" With that, Bail gave an order to have his staff sent home for the rest of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: When Angels Weep  
Author: kasey8473  
Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.  
Chapter: 13  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.**

**

* * *

**Nic Pelléres knew from the moment the explosion occurred that something was not right. It wasn't just the fact that no one was injured, but also what he saw had been left behind outside. Convenient clues. Too convenient. Twice in the hour afterwards he'd thought he'd seen Padmé Skywalker ahead of him and twice, something had occurred to hide the woman. A man running into him and knocking him over. A woman ineptly maneuvering a speeder where it shouldn't be. 

Planned? Or coincidence? He leaned towards planned, but what did he know? By the time he managed to return to the apartment building, Anakin Skywalker was back and security informed him he should report in with any information he had on the matter.

Report? With his failure to save Skywalker's family looming over his head? Were they kidding?

No way he was going to report in. He was aware of Skywalker's explosive temper. His predecessor had met an untimely death for losing track of the handmaiden one afternoon. Nic had watched the man die slowly, Skywalker's mystical powers choking him as Skywalker informed Nic of his promotion. Nic wasn't about to lose his own life in light of what he was certain Skywalker would see as an unpardonable sin. He'd lost Skywalker's family. A bit more important than just the handmaiden.

Without going to his own apartment, Nic booked transport on the first ship off of Coruscant and was gone before night fully fell. No way was he going to get himself killed over Padmé Skywalker and her children. He happened to like living.

He shuddered, imagining what it would be like to be caught by the Jedi. If he was lucky, perhaps the torture wouldn't last overlong. Nic vowed not to be caught.

* * *

Her crying would not cease. Dormé watched her lady cry, those sobs shaking her entire body. For two hours, Padmé had searched and re-searched the lone bag she'd brought and then the small one Dormé carried. She'd taken each item out and turned the bags upside down, finally collapsing when she realized she had indeed left a treasured possession behind by accident. 

The japor snippet. That piece lovingly carved by Anakin when he was still a young boy.

Padmé cried as though her heart was broken anew and there was little Dormé could do about it except pat her back and hug her. They could not go back now. It would be too dangerous. They'd be considered missing, security watching for them.

Dormé considered the vague plan her lady had laid out to her. The babies were going to safe places, given away and Dormé and Padmé would hide themselves in the Outer Rim, never staying for long in one place. Padmé didn't think Anakin would ever stop searching for her once he found her gone. He'd hunt for her until the day one of them died.

But the japor snippet. It meant so much to her lady. She'd wanted to bring it with her, a reminder for herself just like the two things for the twins. Threepio and whatever it was that Padmé had wrapped up just before they'd left. Something of Anakin's Dormé knew, but what? It was too well wrapped now in scarf and shawl. She suspected it was that lightsaber Anakin had discarded upon finishing his new one, but she supposed it could be something else entirely.

Padmé loosed herself, shook her head as she wiped at her eyes. "I'm crying over a silly trinket. My children mean more to me. It's an inanimate object. Just another...thing. I have memories. Memories and my children. That's enough." Her hands shook and her face was blotchy and slightly swollen from her tears.

It wasn't enough. Dormé saw that. Padmé was grieving now over the japor snippet. Dormé licked her lips and checked on the babies. The children were surprisingly well-behaved, sitting and making soft noises to each other.

When the first task was completed and the twins were safe, she'd make her way back to Coruscant. Then, Dormé would wait until Anakin was gone again. She knew the ins and outs of the security for the building and apartment and how tight would Anakin keep security with Padmé gone? She'd bet that he'd decide he could take care of himself and dismiss much of the staff. He was arrogant enough to believe that nothing and no one could harm him.

When it was safe, Dormé would go in, take the snippet and bring it back to Padmé. Perhaps that would make up for her stupidity directly after Mustafar.

* * *

It did not take Vader more than an hour or two to realize that Tarkin didn't care where he was when meetings weren't scheduled. In fact, he could be doing backflips on the bridge of Tarkin's ship as long as he wasn't in the way of anything Tarkin needed completed. Meetings and inspections were first thing in the morning, so Vader would have all of the hours until the next morning to fill. He already had all those hours sitting empty before him. He'd already suffered through boring meetings for the day. 

So why was he staying here then?

In his attempt to alleviate boredom, he'd begun walking about the ship, giving himself a tour of it. He'd discovered his starfighter in the docking bay. Many thanks to Tarkin, he knew. After a couple months of acquaintance, they got along perfectly well and Tarkin had anticipated his boredom. Anakin thought about taking his starfighter out for awhile and then gave that thought a boost further. Why not return to Coruscant?

He didn't have Artoo with him, but another droid would suffice long enough to get back home. Honestly, he'd expected to be on the Outer Rim the way Palpatine had been behaving. In reality, he was ridiculously close to Coruscant and annoyed at being told to leave Padmé for a week when he could easily make the trip here daily.

This week long excursion was unnecessary. He didn't need to be here.

And so, he informed Tarkin he was returning to Coruscant and would be back bright and early for the required meetings each day.

"Tread warily, my friend," was Tarkin's only remark and Vader knew exactly what he meant. Don't ruffle Palpatine.

Well, he decided, perhaps it was time to kill Palpatine and be done with it. Why not? He was certainly ready. He'd learned the ways of controlling the newly formed Empire and Padmé was her old self once more.

Time to take the throne, Vader thought, climbing into his ship. He'd make a brief detour by the apartment long enough to tell Padmé to ready her coronation dress and then he'd be off to get rid of old Palpatine.

Vader smiled.

* * *

How soon until Anakin knew she'd left him? Padmé sat on the floor and looked at her babies. How long before Anakin noticed the challenge she'd issued by taking that game piece? It wouldn't take him long to see it once he actually looked at the game board. Keep him looking for her and as long as he did that, the children and Dormé would be safe. She stroked her fingers across little Annie's cheeks, giving a tiny frown as a wave of fresh despair crashed over her, threatening to drown her. It cut through the numbness that had begun to wrap about her, dragging away that comforting blanket. 

A phantom voice, one not really there, called her name, desperate, choked. Four times it called, louder and louder.

She swallowed hard.

Too much. It was too much, almost like someone else's emotions laid on top of her own.

Padmé's fingers stilled on her son's cheek and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm. After a long moment, she was numb once more.

They'd landed briefly, long enough to meet up with Zoras a final time to cement their identities. He was waiting on the ramp for her decision on the twins.

"My lady," Dormé said from behind her. "Their names need to be changed."

"I know, Dormé." She sighed, hearing Zoras entering the ship, and spoke without turning her head. "Leia Zantal for the girl, and Luke Skywalker for the boy."

"My lady," Dormé began, disapproving of this bit. "Skywalker? Isn't that tempting fate more than a little?"

"It's a common enough name." She turned her head. "There are Skywalkers all over Tatooine and other planets. It's too common to be suspicious."

Zoras spoke up. "I'll give, yes, another name, hmm, as well on the papers."

That appeared to satisfy Dormé and within half of an hour they were once more on their way, new identities in place. Padmé was Nura Zantal, widowed and having lost her older child to fever recently. Leia was hers. Dormé was Miral Skywalker, also widowed, Nura's sister and mother of Luke. The story was that neither of them could afford to care for their children and so they gave them up for adoption.

Zoras had thought of everything. They had this ship and enough credits to take care of immediate needs such as food and clothing yet not enough to make their story suspicious.

It would have to do.

* * *

He expected Padmé to be there. It was evening and she never went anywhere at night anymore unless he was with her. But she wasn't there. Anakin went from room to room, calling out for her, for Dormé, for _anyone_. There was nothing out of place. Where was she? 

Someone was coming up the lift, he sensed them. Security? He strode towards the main room to meet them. They were talking as they came in.

"There's got to be some clue. Search the entire apartment. We can't tell him she's--" The men paled considerably when they saw him there. "Sir. You're back." Surprise and much fear in all of them. Strange.

"What's going on," Anakin asked in a reasonable tone. He kept expecting Padmé to walk out carrying one of the twins, Dormé behind her, though he already knew they weren't here. A sliver of fear pierced through him at the hesitation of those men to speak, to tell him what was happening.

Finally, one man stepped forward. "Perhaps you should sit down, sir."

Anakin stared at him, frowning. A chill swept him. Something was very wrong, the sense of it rolling over him. He didn't want to sit down. He wanted someone to tell him what was happening. "Tell me."

They wouldn't meet his eyes, none of them. "Your wife is gone. She disappeared outside the Senate building this afternoon."

"And the twins and Dormé?"

"Missing as well. Two droids. Missing."

Nonsense. This was nonsense. It couldn't be. They were mistaken. She and Dormé had gone to visit Bail Organa and Mon Mothma. They were shopping and lost track of time. Or maybe they'd decided to eat out and were in a restaurant having a long meal. They weren't missing. His wife, his children. It wasn't possible. He'd set a man to watch them whenever they were outside the apartment, so they weren't missing. They couldn't be. There was no way they could be missing.

They exchanged long glances, fear rising in them. "Sir? They vanished. There was an explosion--"

"An explosion? Explain." His heart beat fast and wild in his chest and Anakin took a few calming breaths. If she'd been caught in an explosion, her body would have been found by now. She would have been identified.

"Outside the Senate building. An explosion tore a hole in one wall. There were no casualties, but... You should see the footage yourself."

"I will. Why was she at the Senate building? Her term was over. Isn't she with Bail Organa or Mon Mothma? One of her other friends perhaps?" There. She was safe with Organa and Mon Mothma. They'd taken her to safety and hadn't informed anyone yet.

But why, a sly voice asked him, wouldn't they have contacted _you_? If she was with them, she'd let him know she hadn't been hurt.

"She did visit Senator Organa briefly. She told him she was being followed. He sent some of his security men with her, but when the explosion occurred, the men lost sight of her and the others. There was quite a bit of confusion."

Anakin sat carefully on one divan. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. "You'll find nothing here. There's nothing. I've been here a few minutes."

He barely heard them asking what he wished them to do now. Anakin answered them, giving them a course of action without hearing himself speak. His thoughts were on his wife. He'd dreamed of Padmé's death and now she was taken from him. This was the dream wasn't it? Danger to her. Some group had taken her to use her and the twins against him. Against the Empire. They'd waited until he was gone and taken them all. Professionals even.

Only professionals would leave no trace. Or had they left no trace? The men had said he should see the footage. He blinked. Had something been left behind? He needed to see the footage. He needed...

Anakin was vaguely aware of the security detail leaving him alone in the apartment.

Was Dormé dead now, he wondered. Would they find the handmaiden's body somewhere in the lower levels? And the droids. Were Artoo and Threepio's memories wiped and the droids sold for some quick credits? Anakin's mind conjured up several gruesome scenarios. His wife hurt, being hurt and crying out for him to save her. His children. What had been done to his _children_?

His mouth trembled, he felt his emotions begin to hurtle him towards a bottomless black chasm and Anakin let a low moan escape his lips. His family. Gone. No. "No," he gasped, clenching his hands into tight fists. Just this morning he'd kissed Padmé goodbye and held her in his arms. He could still smell the lingering scent of her perfume in the air, feel the silky texture of her nightgown against his fingertips.

Anakin gulped in breaths, trying to keep himself from dropping into that pit of despair. His gaze traveled the room without seeing any of the furnishings. "Padmé." He said her name four times, each time growing louder, as though by calling out to her, he could bring her back. He hugged himself, arms aching for her to be in them.

Tears came, hot and quick. Anakin didn't back away from this, letting them fall, letting himself feel...everything. He let himself feel, let it roll over him, facing it for...

A moment. Nothing more.

I will not give in to this. I will be calm and rational. I will be strong for her.

Anakin repeated those things to himself. A few minutes at most and his eyes were dry once more, a calm finally settling upon him. "I love you, Padmé." he whispered.

Silence descended and right then, he would have given anything to hear Shmi's wail or little Annie's softer cries.

He'd give anything to have Padmé back with him.

After a long while, he went to see Palpatine.

* * *

Panic, Palpatine reflected, was every bit as good as anger. Vader's panic -- Anakin's panic -- surrounded him and Palpatine drank it in as though it was an expensive narcotic to drug him. When the truth, whatever it actually was, came out, that panic would fuel the boiling rush of Vader's anger. Such delicious power surging from the blind ire that gripped the boy. Padmé had surely run away, taking with her the handmaiden, the twins and those two droids. There was no kidnapper. Palpatine's own men hadn't yet been in place for that action. 

He'd planned to send Vader on another few of these week long trips before having Padmé and the twins taken and that troublesome handmaiden left dead on the apartment floor. Then to carefully amputate a limb off of each three to send to Vader. A tiny baby foot or hand. Perhaps one of Padmé's hands. Locks of her hair. A holoimage of her crying out in pain. Anything really to bring about anger in his young apprentice.

But Padmé had beaten him. He took a few moments to appreciate how well she'd anticipated the danger to herself and her children. Bravo, he thought. She was a cunning opponent. Far more worthy than he'd thought. Not insignificant after all. There was no trace of her.

Yet.

Palpatine had every assurance that Vader would find something to keep him busy trailing after his wife and children. He'd see some clue that had been missed and wish to go after her. All those lingering thoughts of rebellion against his Master would be gone from his head for the duration of his search for Padmé.

Very well. It would be amusing to see how long that dangerous wench could avoid being trapped and returned here. Amusing as well to watch Vader settle deeper into despair at the loss of her. And the loss of those babies of course, although he didn't quite understand the appeal of those two squalling brats.

He smiled. This turn might even be better than what he'd planned himself. More so because Vader's dear wife -- Anakin's lovely angel -- had left him. She'd abandoned him, ripped the happy family apart and betrayed him. Her doing. Traitor. Yes, she _betrayed_ him.

This could very well make Vader even more pliable, easier to maneuver.

Thank you so much, Padmé, he thought. How very...obliging of you.

* * *

Bail Organa knew nothing. Anakin had no doubt of that. The man didn't know where Padmé and Dormé were. He didn't know what had happened to the twins. His story was supported by everything Anakin had found. Surveillance cameras had shown Padmé's panicked expression, her rushing from the building with Organa's men behind her and then... 

An explosion, not big enough to cause damage, but enough to cause panic. In the confusion, his family was gone. He saw the cloak on the ground, the circuits from a droid and heard Organa's men calling for her. No cameras had caught the actual abduction. Someone had planned this perfectly.

And then there was the little matter of his independent security officer missing as well. Did Nic have anything to do with this? Anakin vowed the man would pay dearly if he did. All of those involved would pay dearly.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. I will, of course, put my men at your disposal. If there is anything I can do..."

Anakin looked up. The man was watching him closely, concern on his features. It was genuine concern, Anakin could feel it. "Everything that can be done is already being done. Keep a watch for her." He picked up the drink Bail had offered him and he hadn't drunk, holding it in his hands more to have something to do than a desire to take a drink.

Why had he come here? Why not wait until morning and go to Bail's office? Because, he thought, Bail is a friend. Sort of. Anakin didn't really have any friends anymore. They were all gone. Bail was the closest thing he had to a friend on Coruscant and he knew Padmé. He would worry for her like Anakin did. He felt that Bail would do what he could to help.

"They tell me all I can do is wait. I don't like waiting. I want answers now." How soon until a ransom demand arrived? He'd made arrangements to have all of the credits in Padmé's accounts available if needed. Credits didn't matter. Padmé and his children mattered.

"You should go home, Anakin. Try to rest."

Helpful advice of the sort Dormé had always handed out and utterly useless. Did people really think he could sleep with his family missing? "I can't sleep." He set the cup back down on the table. "I don't want to."

And why not? Why not try to sleep? Because of the nightmares. Anakin knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, he'd dream of Padmé and her body cold in the grave and away from him forever. He stood. "I'll see myself out."

He spent hours walking, hoping to see her and finally returned home, climbing fully dressed onto their bed and holding her pillow against him as he cried. Sleep took him before he could even think of resisting it. He did not, thankfully, remember his dreams when he woke the next morning.

* * *

With each minute that passed, Padmé's heart grew heavier in her chest. She was really leaving. Leaving her husband, her Annie. 

No, not her Annie, her mind reminded her. He'd ceased to be the dominant part in Anakin within...well, a couple days of aligning himself with evil. He'd become cold and calculating, casually arrogant, while at the same time loosing all restraint upon his temper so that it burst free at the slightest provocation. For those who'd known him, it would be nearly impossible to believe he could be those things he'd become. In all honesty though, Padmé couldn't say he had never possessed those sort of traits at all.

The blindfold of infatuation had fallen from her. Anakin _was_ arrogant, even as a boy. He _did_ calculate in his mind how to gain advantage. A slow smile here or a flirtatious glance there. He _did_ withdraw emotionally, unwilling to genuinely talk about what troubled him.

And above all, she thought sadly, he had an explosive temper when triggered.

She sighed, then gave Dormé a quick glance, relieved to find her friend still slept and wasn't going to subject her to yet another hug meant to comfort. She should sleep too, as it was long past time for rest, but Padmé needed this time to reflect.

Twice already she'd nearly decided to turn them back, consequences or no. Why? Why consider going back after the trouble of leaving? Why consider staying with a man who was growing more irrational and unpredictable? A man who'd choked her, shoved her and was showing signs of becoming increasingly physical in his showings of temper?

Because through it all, she still loved Annie. She loved the man who'd sent her letters when he could during the war, so careful not to give away their secret. She loved the passion he showed in every endeavor, his determination, his conviction. This man had teased her without mercy on little, private matters. She loved how he'd given her life.

Her Annie had breathed joy and love into her, making her whole. He completed her.

Her sobs came again with a fresh rush of tears. Without him she was ripped apart, her pain in this necessary parting a dagger shoving into her again and again. Never ending. This pain would never go away. Padmé was split into two and nothing but reuniting with her Annie would make her whole again. There would forever be an empty place inside her heart.

Padmé wrapped her arms about herself, wishing her arms were Anakin's and that she could once more hold him to her. She loved him, the good and the bad both, but she could not live with him while he was in darkness. He'd gone too far down that road for her to even pretend to follow.

For a single second, Padmé thought she felt him with her, but then reason returned and she knew she was sitting in a small ship in the cold of space. Apart from him.

It hurt.

* * *

Late breaking HoloNet news:

"Padmé Skywalker, the former Senator Amidala, is missing. She, her children, handmaiden and two droids were last seen outside the Senate building yesterday afternoon. After an explosion ripped up one section of wall, they were gone, leaving only a cloak that has been identified as her handmaiden's, and what appears to be a few ripped out circuits to a Protocol droid. Anyone with information..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: When Angels Weep  
****Author: kasey8473  
****Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.  
Chapter: 14  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.**

**

* * *

**They traveled as sisters, recently widowed. Dormé carried the newly christened Luke and Padmé took Leia. The size of the twins was different enough that they could easily be said older and younger than they were. Padmé had taken advantage of that in the arrangements she'd made. A few more days, she decided, and then they'd part company. 

It was too dangerous to stay together much longer. Dormé and Luke would be far safer than she and Leia, for Padmé would also have the two droids in her possession. A sure sign for anyone looking for her.

Anakin had to be getting suspicious. It had been a week now. Surely he'd realized the truth? He must have. She trembled a little at the thought of how blazing hot his anger must have been. She couldn't go back now. Her path was set.

"I'm scared," Dormé whispered, holding a bottle to Luke's mouth, though he wasn't drinking from it.

"I know," she replied, checking their course. They'd arrive at their next to last destination soon, a place she'd been told by that voice to go to. Their stay on Dagobah wouldn't be long. A few minutes at most. The voice had told her finding a place to land would be difficult. Padmé was ready for it. Any challenge to take her mind off of Anakin.

When she managed to sleep, she dreamed of him. Not the stranger, but the man she'd loved. She relived their happy moments. Padmé dreamed and yearned and woke having to squash doubt that this was for the best.

"Are you scared?" Dormé's face showed her fear plainly. "Even a little, my lady?"

Padmé hesitated, then nodded. "I'm terrified. But I can't give in to it yet. I can't let it take me. I need to be strong for them, for you. If I let myself acknowledge it, I'll turn us around and we'll be back to Coruscant before we know it. I'm afraid to go, but I'm more afraid to stay." Afraid of Anakin. Afraid of his temper and those things she knew him capable of.

In an hour, they'd found a semi-stable place to land and Padmé gave Dormé a firm order to remain with the babies. It was with great surprise that she stepped outside to find Jedi Master Yoda waiting for her. She was so relieved to see him she nearly bent down and lifted him in a hug.

When greetings had been dispensed with, Yoda studied her with his wise gaze. "See the children I would like."

Without questioning, Padmé brought first Leia and then Luke out to meet him. Leia was given a quick glance. Luke was looked at a bit longer. Neither child cried, Luke staring right back at the Jedi. Luke kicked his little feet in a happy manner.

Yoda's smile was sad. "Healthy. Strong they are. Yes, very strong."

"Leia's stronger. She's growing so fast. She's always eating or wanting to eat. Luke barely grows. He doesn't eat very much. I've been assured that that'll change... " Padmé bit her lip to keep from chattering.

"Strong they are," he repeated, then paused, lifting his chin and staring around her.

Padmé turned her head. There was no one on the ramp behind her and she shifted Luke in her arms. "I'd better take him back inside." Dormé appeared immediately to take him and when Padmé returned, Yoda was nodding his head as though listening to someone speak. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was speaking instead.

"Go you must. With you, the Force will be."

A strange exchange and one that reassured her somehow. Padmé straightened her shoulders and walked back into the ship. The presence that had been with her periodically was in the ship now, so strong that Padmé took a moment to look through the nooks and crannies as Dormé flew them up from Dagobah. There was no one and yet, somehow, there was.

"Goodbye, Master Yoda," she whispered, and a comforting phantom hand pressed to her temple. Padmé sighed and took a seat.

* * *

Obi-Wan was on the ramp. "I'll go with the boy," he said, "Since Padmé had the sense to take the lightsaber for him. I'll stay with him, watch over him." 

Yoda nodded, in full agreement. Obi-Wan was loyal and dedicated. He'd take good care of Luke despite his corporeal limitations.

Qui-Gon sighed. "And I shall keep with our Padmé. She's not out of danger yet."

Padmé was resourceful, more so than most people and her timing was absolutely perfect. Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been keeping him informed about events. Skywalker's continuing descent struck chords of such sadness inside him, an ongoing pain that he'd learned to live with. Right now, Yoda felt every one of his long years of age. Well, he decided, they would wait. They would watch events unfold and be patient. When the time was right, the dark side would fall to ruin and Palpatine would be defeated.

Some day.

He had hope and that hope rested in two children.

Yoda watched the ship lift off, carrying with it two Jedi that no longer lived.

* * *

HoloNet News:

"The search for Padmé Skywalker continues. No ransom demands have been given as of yet. When asked to comment, her husband stated that those responsible for this crime will be shown no mercy."

* * *

"This has to be where we part ways." Padmé was resigned to this turn and more than sad to send her son and handmaiden away. Dormé would take Luke to Tatooine. Padmé doubted Anakin would go there, not with the emotional pain connected to the place. She was counting on him wanting to avoid emotional pain like he always did. He wouldn't think to look there and she'd arranged it so that Owen and Beru Lars could call Luke their own if they wished. 

"I know, my lady." Dormé handed Luke to her and Padmé gladly took him.

She held her son for what Padmé instinctively knew was the last time, holding him against her. "There is still good in him. There _is_ still good in Anakin. I know there is."

The other woman didn't reply. Padmé knew Dormé had come to believe Anakin was evil through and through. She didn't see the flashes of Annie in his eyes. She wasn't close enough to see it.

"You know what you have to do?" Luke rested his cheek against hers, his hand in her hair. She cradled his head in her palm and willed herself not to cry.

"You can count on me."

Her tears were rising, she could feel them about to burst free. No, Padmé thought. I can't cry yet. Not again. Be strong. "I know I can. Be safe. Hide on a planet in the Outer Rim and never go back to Coruscant. Promise me that. Promise me you'll never go back, Dormé."

Dormé took Luke, set him with Leia and enfolded Padmé in a warm hug. "Oh, we'll be fine Luke and I. And you'll be fine. He won't find any of us, Padmé. Your plan had no loopholes. He won't find us. The galaxy is huge and we are only two women, two children and two droids."

She suppressed a feeling of guilt. Dormé didn't know where she was taking Leia or what Padmé's own plans were for after that. She'd neglected to tell Dormé of that. The only thing Dormé had was a way to reach her if anything went wrong. She hated to consider any of the plan failing. Padmé stepped back. "Go, before I lose my nerve."

Dormé bent, lifted Luke, then the bag they'd bought for them. It was filled with new clothes and a few supplies. Dormé was taking the public travel route to Tatooine, leaving Padmé the ship. In minutes, she was gone.

It wasn't until Padmé was once more in space that she realized Dormé had never promised and that her handmaiden had looked guilty of something herself. "Keep them safe," she whispered. "Please, just keep them safe."

Don't let Dormé do anything foolish.

* * *

The board was still set, pieces laid out in the final positions they'd ended in. Neither Padmé nor Dormé had put it away and he'd been concerned with other, more pressing matters, like his wife's disappearance to bother with a game board. Anakin sank into the chair Padmé had taken that night, his shoulders slumped, hands limp in his lap. 

He closed his eyes for a brief second. Weariness was a normal operating mode for him the past few days. He'd been following up lead after lead and coming up empty. Nothing panned out. The cloak was Dormé's, the circuits Threepio's.

Eight days and no trace of her. No trace of any of them. It was as though Coruscant had opened up and swallowed them whole.

Anakin rubbed a hand across his face and through his hair. He missed her so much and he couldn't figure out just how they'd been taken. All of them whisked away under the watch of an entire crowd. There should have been a hundred witnesses aside from the security cameras and there were none. He was missing something. The investigators were missing something, he was certain of it. There was a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that he was looking right at the answer to the mystery. What wasn't being seen?

Anakin dreaded their bodies being found. Images of Padmé, her body lifeless and eyes staring, haunted him day and night. His nightmares had once more returned, graphic and terrifying. Her body slumped and staring, her body charred by fire. Anakin blinked, forcing those sorts of thoughts from him. He turned his gaze to the board.

A game before I go.

He'd needed that time with her alone before the trip Palpatine had arranged. He'd needed to relax with her, make up for his earlier display of temper. He hadn't meant to accuse her, only to ask her if any of it was truth, yet somehow he'd been defensive from the get-go, demanding answers. Padmé never responded well to demands, least of all the sort of forceful ones he'd been full of and they'd been in a fight before he knew it. He hadn't meant to shove her as hard as he had. He'd only meant to put her from him.

He remembered her stumbling against the divan and sucked in a breath. She'd forgiven him. She'd accepted his apology and he'd still wanted to make it up to her. Time together, playing a game.

Anakin looked at the pieces, seeing her slender, pale fingers picking them up and moving them, her dark eyes surveying the pieces with the same cool gaze she'd used in the Senate. His brow furrowed. The pieces... Anakin blinked slowly, head tilting. Something about the pieces bothered him and he couldn't quite isolate what. The puzzle of that teased at him.

She hadn't wanted to play, reluctant as usual, but she'd consented to a single game. How happy that had made him! Anakin managed a little smile now. He'd been hard pressed to keep his eyes on the game and off of her. He'd enjoyed watching her in deep thought, her tongue occasionally slipping out to be caught between her teeth and that tiny frown before she made a move. Dormé had not exaggerated Padmé's skill and the game had gone on far longer than he'd initially anticipated. He recalled wondering on her seemingly erratic strategies, watching with curious eyes as she split up her forces.

He'd won before he'd gotten any answers on her tactics.

Staring at those pieces now, he noticed something he'd not previously seen, his smile fading. With rising interest, Anakin's gaze traveled the board, taking in the positions of all their pieces and then the winning quadrant of the board. He noted everything, saw what had not been seen and began to put it all together.

Oh Padmé, he thought. You beautiful, devious woman.

Vader sat up, leaned over the board, studying those pieces.

This game was similar to chess, with pieces of similar value. However, there were levels of playing pieces within the levels and the board was not made up of squares. It was set up to resemble a map of the galaxy and certain systems were more valuable to capture than others. The object of the game was like chess as well, to capture the leader piece.

Unlike chess, three pieces had equal power and if one of those pieces fell, then defeat was almost certain. Almost. If the other two were maneuvered properly, an endangered opponent could still win the game.

Padmé had won. He'd captured one piece, but she'd outmaneuvered him on the rest of the board. She'd bowed from the game, conceded defeat when by rights she could have struck and destroyed his army in one move. She'd turned the tables. She'd had all the power and she'd surrendered.

Why? He couldn't understand why. What had she to gain by putting herself into danger and then surrendering when she could have won? It made no sense. And how had he not seen it?

One brow raised. Simple. She'd lured his pieces into one quadrant. Victory could have been hers and she'd let him win instead.

Padmé let him win, lured him away, let him think she was no threat, let him...

His eyes widened and he returned his attention to her central command center. The piece he'd captured was missing, plucked from danger. Plucked from... Vader blinked.

You're not my husband.

I won't be a party to a dictatorship.

No, she wouldn't would she? Padmé breathed democracy. She would not consent to ruling without her beloved, broken democracy. One person could not know what was best for an entire galaxy she would argue.

His wife was not kidnapped. The certainty of that slammed over him as a speeder on full throttle.

Vader got up, began to walk through the apartment, searching for any Force impressions left. He found Shmi and little Annie, then Padmé and... He found Dormé, an impression still steeped with feeling. Fear, great fear. He could practically see her looking at the apartment, calling out for Padmé, her voice panicked.

Padmé had seemed so very sad the next morning when she saw him off, looking at him as though she'd never see him again Her arms around him, her desperate kiss.

_When I return,_ he'd said_, we'll have a rematch. _

_Yes,_ her reply had come_. We'll rematch._

Rematch. Solemn and serious.

There were no real clues because she'd planned it that way. No one had seen anything because she'd planned the diversion, planned how to stay out of sight. Hidden. She'd planned everything, lulled him into thinking she was back with him and all the while she was plotting. Plotting. Palpatine was right.

Vader let out a guttural cry that pierced the silence.

Padmé had run from him. That night, she'd had it planned. How soon after he'd gone had she left him? Had she even waited until he was off-planet? And who dared to help her?

I will miss you with all of my heart each day that we are parted.

"Liar," he snarled. Striding to the board, he picked it up and threw it as hard as he could across the room. Playing pieces scattered about the carpet.

"You can run, but you can't hide," he yelled. "I'll find you Padmé. I promise you that!"

To punctuate his vow, every piece of glass in the apartment exploded, raining shards about the rooms.

* * *

Palpatine stared at the boy. He was insisting on continuing the search as Palpatine had known he would. "Why will she come back," he asked, knowing the answer already. What was in Vader's possession would remain his even if he tired of it. 

"She will come back because it is where she belongs."

"Do you still love her then, even after this? She left you. She _betrayed_ your trust in her."

Vader's face showed no emotion though Palpatine could sense the delicious boiling roil of them inside Vader. "Love is irrelevant. She's my wife. Padmé is mine and I will keep what is mine. She will come back whether she wishes to or not. A person cannot disappear without a trace. There is something and now that I know the truth, I can more accurately narrow the search to find her. There are resources I can use."

He gave a slow nod. "Very well, Vader. Search for your wife. Work with Tarkin. Divide your efforts between her and the rebels."

* * *

HoloNet News:

"This case has become one of the most high profile disappearances in recent history. No ransom, no contact of any kind and no bodies found. These two women and children simply vanished. The official search has been called off. However, Anakin assures us that a team of investigators will be continuing a private search around the clock. He will not rest until she is returned."


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: When Angels Weep  
Author: kasey8473  
Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.  
Chapter: 15  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.**

**

* * *

**Dormé had never been to Tatooine before and was planning to never come back again. It was hot and dry and before she'd even been there five minutes, she had sand in the most uncomfortable places. This, she'd been told, was nice cool weather. A mild season. She hated to think what a bad season would be like. Sweat dripped down her brow and she wished she could take off her cloak. However, as it was only she and Luke, she'd have to suffer. No extra hands available to help her. 

Were the Lars expecting her? She wasn't certain. Padmé had made arrangements, so she hoped this wasn't going to be a surprise for the couple. She could imagine how well that would go.

Padmé's directions to the Lars moisture farm were clear and concise, giving Dormé no trouble at all. She was greeted by a young man and woman who introduced themselves as Owen and Beru. Just who she was there to see. They invited her inside, Beru serving refreshments. Dormé was glad for the liquid and the bit of cake. Both settled her stomach a bit. She'd been mildly queasy since leaving Coruscant. Terror had a way of doing that.

It was Owen who began the conversation, coming straight to the point, his tone gruff. "The transmission was a bit garbled, so correct me if any of this is wrong. Anakin married a woman, they had a baby and the child needs care?"

"That's the gist of it, yes." An accurate, if greatly abbreviated accounting. In her arms, Luke twisted, turning his head toward Owen.

Beru nudged the cake plate closer to Dormé, inviting her to have another piece. When it had been taken and a few more bites eaten, Beru leaned forward a little. "Why us? Why here? Isn't he, Anakin, still alive? Isn't he well?"

Dormé wasn't sure what to say. Padmé had told her to trust these two but how far was that trust meant to extend? She gave them a shortened version of the story, from what Padmé had told her and her own experiences, seeing shock on Beru's face. Curiously, Owen did not seem surprised. Accepting and not surprised at all. She rocked Luke, wondering on that. What had he seen in Anakin that kept him from being surprised? What had he witnessed? What did Owen know?

A burst of pessimism hit her. He was going to refuse. They were going to refuse to take Luke. Dormé had the sudden fear of that. They would refuse and she didn't think she could protect Luke by herself for much longer. She hurried to speak. "The Anakin you met no longer exists. He changed. He's cruel and so angry..."

Beru stretched her hand out, taking one of Luke's hands. He wrapped his fingers around her forefinger and cooed. Beru smiled. "We'll take him."

Quickly Dormé shifted her gaze to Owen. He was watching Beru and Luke with an odd flicker of yearning in his eyes. After a moment, he met her gaze and the flicker was gone. "Shmi would want us to care for her grandson, no matter what the circumstances."

Giving Luke a last hug, Dormé handed him to Beru, whose smile went serene with the boy in her arms. "My lady sent documentation should you wish to call him yours or if anyone comes asking."

"What's his name," Beru asked.

"Luke Skywalker."

Owen snorted. "Nothing like hiding him in plain sight with an obvious name is there?"

"The name is common--"

"I know," he replied. "Will the papers hold up to scrutiny if we choose to use them?"

"My lady paid well to make certain of it." She watched Owen get up from his chair and round the table to look over his wife's shoulder at the boy. "You can't tell Luke the truth, not until he's adult and can understand. Tell him he was the son of a Jedi whose father died in the slaughter. It's partial truth. Or tell him his father was a pilot. Truth again somewhat."

"Or tell him nothing. We'll start there, see where it takes us." Owen leaned down, tucking the blanket more firmly about Luke.

Dormé opened the bag she'd brought and pulled out the package Padmé had sent. Not for the first time she wondered what it was. Padmé had not told her. "My lady sent this as well, to be given to him when he is grown."

Owen took it, hefted it and nodded. "Very well. When he is grown."

She was invited to stay for the night and longer, but Dormé wanted to be off this planet. She was anxious to take the snippet and return it to her lady. "I can't stay. My presence is a danger and if Anakin does come here I'd put you all in danger. No, but thank you. I have one more task to complete before I go into hiding myself."

* * *

Padmé stepped onto the ramp and immediately her heart jumped into her throat. Row upon row of guards waited. Vertigo threatened to overtake her. 

No, she thought. Oh no, he's found me already.

She squeezed her daughter, causing the baby to wail. Terror took strength from her body and Padmé could almost see Anakin striding down the path, demanding she hand Leia -- Shmi -- over to him and come back to Coruscant. No, she decided, he wouldn't demand. he'd simply grab them both. Maybe he'd wait until they were alone before dealing with her. What would he do then? Her mind brought forth several horrible options.

Would he hit her this time? He'd been fast approaching crossing over that line as his shove the previous week had indicated. Or would he choke her like he'd done once before?

Padmé gasped for breath. At least little Annie was safe. Luke, she corrected herself.

Too bad Breha had not been able to warn her in time to turn back. Had Anakin found Bail out and come in here with lightsaber blazing and troops shooting? Alderaan was peaceful. They'd give little resistance. She could imagine the sort of slaughter that would occur. Broken bodies lying terribly still and cold.

Alderaan was peaceful and Anakin didn't appear. The only man to approach her was an elderly white haired gentleman who gave her a courtly bow and a friendly smile.

"Welcome to Alderaan, my lady. My queen awaits you in her private chamber. May I say, this is a wonderful day for Alderaan."

On closer inspection, Padmé felt extremely foolish to realize the men weren't guards at all. Silly of her, but then who could blame her for her imagination working overtime so feverishly? These rows of men were a welcome delegation. Giving nod to her former political status? She'd have to talk to Breha about that. Perhaps, she decided, I should have been clearer to Breha about the importance of anonymity for this visit.

As she was led through the palace carrying Leia, people stepped to the sides of the hallways and bowed. Whispers carried along behind her, an edge of excitement in them.

She needn't have worried, Padmé discovered when she finally reached Breha. The delegation had not been a nod to her political career, but rather to the arrival of the child to be adopted. Breha met her with a gentle touch of fingers on her cheek and a hug that managed to convey such kindness and sincerity that Padmé nearly wept.

"My thoughts have been with you on your journey here," Breha said, guiding her to a comfortable chair and ordering refreshments to be brought. "I have been so worried for you."

"I've been worried for me too," she replied candidly. They spoke on general topics until refreshments had been brought and they were alone. "Would you like to hold her?"

Breha nodded, holding out her arms. "More than anything. This sacrifice you make..." She trailed off.

"It's necessary, Breha. Unfortunately. Her name is Leia." She handed Shmi, now Leia, into the arms of Bail Organa's wife. Here, in plain sight, her daughter would be safe. Bail wouldn't even know that Leia was Shmi. She'd worked this all out with Breha. Her friend. Her accomplice in this deception.

The door opened, a young woman crossing towards them.

"Leia Organa. I like the sound of that." Breha touched Leia's cheek. Leia reached up a hand, grasping Breha's hair and tugging, causing a grin to light Breha's face. "Oh, so precious."

"All I ask is that I be allowed to see her a couple times a year. I'll only come when the Senate is in session and I'll never stay long. I just..." She swallowed hard. "I can't lose them both."

Breha held up a hand. "Please, Nura." She stressed the new name Padmé had taken. For the benefit of the woman approaching she assumed. "Your little one will be safe with us. Take time to mourn the loss of your older child, but rest assured we will care well for this one. She will be treasured. We'll love her."

"I know." She knew without one doubt that Leia would have a good life here. Breha and Bail would take care of her and she would want for nothing.

"You're welcome to visit. Just send notice to my handmaidens and they'll see I'm made aware of your arrival."

"There's a Protocol droid in my ship that I'd like to remain with Leia. He's been powered down for awhile." Arrangements were made to retrieve Threepio and by dawn, Padmé was gone from Alderaan, on her way to one more location she was being guided to. Her present journey was coming to an end.

Soon, a new one would begin.

* * *

She shouldn't be here. Padmé had wanted her out of danger, tucked away from the chaos once she'd taken Luke to the Lars. But Dormé couldn't let that snippet remain on Coruscant. It was a little thing, yes, but her lady needed it. As she made her way carefully to the apartment, she recalled where it would be. In Padmé's box of memories. A small box filled with mementos of times Padmé wished to recall. 

A charm without a chain, a small comb for her hair... A japor snippet carved with meticulous care. Padmé had cried so much over leaving it behind.

Dormé had been on Coruscant for several days, long enough to make discreet inquiries on Anakin's whereabouts. He was off-planet again she'd discovered, and would be for a few days. Still, she planned to get in and get right back out as quickly as possible. No lingering.

As she'd predicted to herself, Anakin had greatly relaxed security. She saw no one. The building was silent. Tamping down a sliver of unease, Dormé stepped into the lift. It slid fluidly up to the apartment. A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she walked inside. Padmé had been happy here for awhile and Dormé had been happy for her.

A quick search of the rooms showed no one present and a curious absence of glass. What, she wondered, had happened to it all? She strode to the bedroom, keeping an ear open for sounds, seeing the long low table no longer had glass in it either. It was a bare framework. Strange. Dormé paused, listening. Was that a footfall? The sound of a door opening? There was nothing out of the ordinary save her own panicked breaths. She found the box at the foot of the bed on the bench. Dormé smiled in relief as she lifted it and opened the lid.

Necklace, comb, charm... No japor snippet.

Dormé felt chilled all of a sudden. It should be there. Don't panic, she thought. Perhaps it fell out of the box. She closed the lid and set the box back down. Sure it fell. Out of a closed box with a tightly fitting lid. With a glance left and right, Dormé knelt, carefully scanning the carpet in hopes of seeing it there on the floor though she knew it was not there. She knew at a glance it was not there.

Her search took her around the side of the bed. Nothing. The snippet was not here. She muttered a soft curse and sat back on her heels. Where could it be? Padmé had kept it in that box. She wouldn't have moved it. She wouldn't have--

"You're looking for _this_, aren't you?" Anakin's voice came from behind her, deceivingly gentle, bored even.

Fear skittered over her skin. It crawled up her back and sank it's fangs into her neck. Dormé turned, rising slowly to her feet. She'd not heard him come in, but there he was. How had he come in on such silent feet? She blinked. Or had she really heard a door a moment ago, that sound she'd attributed to imagination? How long had he been here and why wasn't he gone like he was supposed to be?

Anakin sat in a chair by the hall door, foot propped up on a second chair. The japor snippet, on its simple chain, dangled from his raised hand. He was contemplating it in a detached manner. "I was a child when I gave her this. She liked it. A decade later she wore it for me when we were alone and finally all the time. I can remember it nestled between her perfect breasts."

She said nothing, for what could she say? There was nowhere to go, to run from him. She was not going to leave this apartment again, was she? It was inevitable. She was going to die here. Dormé embraced the inevitability. She had done her job well and now to finish it. She was a handmaiden and her job was not done until she was gone.

Stand firm, she told herself. A calm settled over her, the eye of the storm, and she waited for his temper. It would be coming anytime. He would try to make her tell him where Padmé was and when she refused he would hurt her. When that failed, he would kill her. She knew it. Saw it all in his eyes before another word had been spoken.

"I thought you were her when you first walked in. She chose her handmaidens well. Height, hair. From behind, you were her." He jostled the chain, made the snippet twirl. That twirling was hypnotic and she wrenched her eyes from it. "Did you think I didn't know you returned to Coruscant, Dormé? From the moment you landed I've known you were here. I gave you that false information, hoping you'd come back here." His glance was sly. "And if you hadn't, I'd have had you picked up before you could leave again. You've grown careless, handmaiden. You know, I thought maybe she'd slipped by me. After all, _you_ came back. Why not her as well? When I saw you walk in..."

He never said Padmé's name. Always 'she' and 'her'. Why?

His other hand raised, two fingers drawing up. The shade over the window raised, bathing her in bright sunlight. Dormé blinked and tilted her head, everything in the room beyond her plunged into shadow. Dust motes danced in the light beams.

"Where is she, Dormé? Where's my wife?"

Her mind focused on her fear of him, of what she knew him capable of, keeping images of the last time she'd angered him in the forefront. Don't let him trick you, she thought. Stay strong. He will trick you if you let him.

Anakin came to her, bending slightly to set the snippet on the bench beside the box. "You're worried about her, about the babies. You can't hide that. It's understandable, that worry. You've been a good friend to her. To us both. You are one of the few people she trusts." He gave her one of those calculating, engaging grin he was so good at. The warmth of it didn't reach his eyes. "And that is why you're going to tell me where she is."

Tears made tracks down her face, she could feel them falling and didn't dare wipe them away. I'm sorry my lady, she thought. I was foolish in coming here. Forgive me.

"Out there I can't protect her. She's not safe. The only place she and the twins are safe is with me." He sounded so reasonable. Once, she'd believed him. Not anymore. She'd seen his true face, the monster he'd become. He'd pulled away his own mask and revealed himself to her.

He was a monster wasn't he, every bit as frightening as those creatures in children's stories. Only he was more frightening in her mind because he wore the face of a friend. She bit her tongue to keep from speaking.

Anakin's smile faded, anger sparking in his eyes, quickly burning hotter into flame. "Taught you that silent tactic has she? She was always good at those cool, flat stares. Surely you see how reckless and irresponsible she's being running off like that the second my back is turned? Running off to...where? Is she meeting someone? Tell me. Tell me now, Dormé. You will tell me!"

She shook her head.

"Tell me," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

Dormé again shook her head. He tried again and the urge to spill everything she knew rose up inside her, her mouth opening, the words nearly leaving her. She staggered back against the same wall he'd once thrown her against, raising a fist and biting into a finger to muzzle herself.

He came to her, looming over her, face flushing. "Did my wife leave me for another man then?"

Her lower lip trembled and she stopped biting her finger to answer him. "It was you left her." The words were stronger than she'd thought they'd be and Dormé pressed her palms to the wall behind her, taking strength from the solid feel of the wall. Firm, unyielding. As she should be. "You who deserted her for power when all she wanted was your love."

His eyes narrowed. "She brought a man to kill me. I'd say her intentions were clear right then."

Dormé could hardly see for the tears in her eyes. "My lady loved you."

"She walked away and took our children with her. She put me through hell for a week until I saw what she'd done. That's not love." His voice grew louder and louder with each word. "I've done more for her and our love than she ever conceived of and I will search the galaxy until she is back with me!" He took several steps back, raising his hand, fingers curved as though about her throat.

And then she felt it, that tight Force grasp of his hand and Dormé had no more words, nor breath to say them. Life was choked from her and the last thing she saw was Anakin's cold hard stare. There were no loving arms to hold her or voice to soothe her as Death reached for her and Dorme died, taking Padmé's final secrets with her into the grave.

She'd protected her lady, a loyal handmaiden to the end.


	16. Chapter 16

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 16

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Only a couple chapters left. 17 will be posted next Monday and 18 the following Monday.

* * *

She chanced a transmission to Sola. It was Anakin she ran from, not her family. They deserved to know the truth. And so Padmé told her sister everything, stressing the need for caution if Anakin should come there looking for her. Sola's voice was a comfort, that loving acceptance of her no matter what had occurred. 

The transmission was longer than she'd planned, Sola informing her of how they'd tried to reach her and not been able to get through to her apartment. They'd seen that interview, heard of the birth of the twins and wondered why she'd not contacted them. They'd hoped she and Anakin would come to visit and why not? The war had been over. They'd looked happy. Her mother had been excited by the news of more grandchildren. Weeks had gone by, then months and they'd still hoped to hear from her. They'd been so worried, yet had never doubted they'd hear from her again.

Padmé ate a quick meal, then sat down with Artoo. She talked to him, like Anakin had done, as though the droid was a person. He whistled and hummed and when her words ran dry, Padmé touched Artoo's side.

"It's you and me, Artoo. Let's make it count."

He gave a whistle in answer and Padmé turned her head to stare out the window.

* * *

When his wife had informed him that she had found a baby girl to adopt and that the child was already with her on Alderaan, he hadn't known what to say. He'd dreamed of such a day for so long that he was speechless. No words would leave him. 

Bail made his way toward their bedroom, strides quick, but not enough to say that he ran. How strange that he was nervous! It's only a baby, he thought. Nothing to be nervous about. He recalled Breha's warm giggle at his non-response. She'd sounded like a young girl at that moment, giddy, happy.

He found her waiting for him, the little girl in her arms. She was making nonsensical noises that the baby seemed to enjoy. Bail crossed to her and knelt, hands going to her knees. He felt the velvety texture of her dress, smelled her delicate perfume. The baby was lowered so he could see her.

Emotion choked him. Theirs. This girl was theirs. They had a daughter at last. "She's beautiful," he managed, touching a finger to the blanket that was loosely wrapping the baby.

"Her name is Leia," Breha said, clutching one of his hands and urging him up to sit beside her. "I'd like to keep her name."

He nodded, accepting Leia into his arms. Bail shifted her a little and a sliver of unease crept along his back. A suspicion began in his mind and he could not loose it from him. It was a little thing that grew the longer he held her. He looked down at this child's face and felt as though he knew her already. He took in Leia's size and weight, the familiar feel of her in his arms and knew that this was Padmé's girl Shmi. He had not one doubt.

"How..." He paused, cleared his throat, calculating how old Shmi would be now. "How old is she? Eight months?"

His wife laughed. "No, no, no. Leia's only six. Her mother said she was born big."

"What was the mother's name? I'm curious."

"Nura Zantal."

The name meant nothing. He turned what he knew of Padmé over and over in his mind and could find no connection between the name and his friend. "Nura Zantal," he repeated, again looking down at Leia.

"Yes. She was so sad to give up her daughter, Bail. She lost her older child to a fever recently and..." Breha leaned over to the table beside her and poured a drink, then sipped it before continuing. "I've given her permission to come and see Leia on occasion."

"Is that wise? What if she decided she wishes her child back?"

Breha smiled, serene and lovely, certainty wrapped over her. "She won't. She can't afford a baby."

Perhaps this child was Padmé's and perhaps not. Leia looked like the baby girl he'd been pressed to hold whenever he and Mon Mothma had visited with Padmé. But what proof did he have? A hunch was no proof. He thought Leia was Shmi, yet he couldn't know.

It did not escape him that there were two ways to interpret his wife's statement.

She can't _afford_ a baby. The obvious monetary interpretation. Or the second choice. A baby would be in danger with her. If this was Shmi, then where was Annie? Would Padmé split up her children?

Looking into the sweet, innocent face of this child, Bail chose the first interpretation. This girl Leia was the daughter of a poor woman named Nura Zantal. They'd raise her and love her and that was final.

* * *

The Empire had come to Naboo. 

Ryoo and Pooja were crying, clutching at their mother.

Vader motioned to the guards. "Take the children."

"No!" Sola tried to stop them, Vader stretching out his right arm and pinning her to the wall. The guards took the children, carried them screaming from the house. She turned her fear and anger onto him, hands pushing, trying to scratch.

Vader subdued her. It was easy really. Time obligingly slowed for him, showing him how this was going to play out. Honestly, Sola didn't stand a chance against him. She railed at him, spat out curses he wouldn't have thought she knew and finally quieted, chest heaving from the exertion. "Are you willing to cooperate now, Sola?"

Eyes very much like Padmé's stared at him in terror. "What's happened to you," she gasped with a wince.

Vader eased his grip somewhat. "What do you mean?"

"You're not the Anakin I remember."

Annoyance plucked at him and he snorted. "That's what _she_ kept saying." He straightened, hand still holding her to the wall. "Don't try it Ruwee. You will be disappointed in the outcome," Vader cautioned Padmé's father, knowing full well the man thought to protect his eldest child.

"Let her go, Skywalker."

Vader glanced over his shoulder with a confident smirk. Many underestimated him these days. What a pity. He'd like Padmé's father. With a bored air, he held out his left hand, felt the Force flowing about him. The blaster the man held ready flew from his hand and into Vader's. "I warned you." He shot Ruwee, not to kill but to wound. When he was finished with Sola, he'd get whatever he could from Ruwee.

Padmé's mother came from the hallway, appearing to have forgotten the weapon in her hand in her haste to reach her husband. Vader sent it from her. Jobal knelt over her husband, crying as troops cut off all escape.

With a sigh, Vader returned his attention to Sola. "Now, where were we? Ahh yes. Your sister. My wife. Where is she hiding?"

"I don't know." He saw defiance in her eyes.

Vader set the blaster down, that same hand raising to smooth Sola's hair from her brow. "You know more than you're telling." He leaned in close, whispered in her ear. "I will find her. It's only a matter of time. She will come back to me."

Sola was stubbornly silent. Just like Padmé. Stubborn. Strong-willed.

He released her, took a few steps back, touching his index finger to his lips as he thought on the best way to handle this woman. "Do you love your husband and children, Sola?"

Pain flashed in her eyes, as though she had grasped instantly what he meant to say next. Smart woman. The answer was there, a resounding affirmative to his question. Sola loved them and she'd do anything to keep them safe.

"All I'm asking is the location of my wife and children. Is that knowledge truly worth the lives of your own family? Your husband and children? Is blood thicker than matrimony and the bond of a mother to her children? Will you sacrifice them for her or her for them? One or the other, Sola, you can't have both."

"Don't Sola," Jobal gasped. "Don't listen."

Vader shot an irritated glance at Padmé's mother. "My son and daughter aren't even a full year old yet. She's not keeping them safe by dragging them about the galaxy. What sort of parent is she being? I mean really? On Coruscant, they had both their parents and isn't that important? Family, I mean. The love of their mother and father." He played that card, the family one. With such a family as Padmé's, it might work. "Like your family here. Like the family you grew up in. Loving. Happy. They were taken care of, with shelter and medical care if it was needed." He gave a shrug. "What do they have now? I'll tell you what they have. The cold darkness of space."

She was crumbling, her will to resist flagging. Vader struggled to keep triumph from showing. Another moment and Sola would sing her knowledge loud and clear. Padmé would be back where she belonged.

"Padmé would protect you with her last dying breath, Sola." Jobal pushed herself to standing. "She would protect you."

Vader watched resolve strengthen on Sola's face at Jobal's quiet words. Her lips parted and while her voice was shaky, he heard Padmé's strength in it. "You'll get nothing from me."

Rage, hot, burning, boiled over inside him. Vader growled. His hand opened, lightsaber fitting itself into it in a movement he didn't recall making. It ignited with a hiss. In five strides he was at Jobal, burying the blade in her body, twisting it.

Padmé's eyes, filled with pity, stared up at him as the light of life faded from Jobal. Padmé's mother was dead.

Sola and Ruwee's cries filled the room. Vader stepped back, numbness eclipsing his ire. "Take these two, then burn the house." He deactivated his lightsaber, tucked it back along his belt. "I'll question them both again later."

Vader left the house, strolled down the street he'd once walked with Padmé. It got easier, he thought. With each kill, he felt less and less remorse. Each person was a means to an end now. Finding Padmé.

He did not stop until he was by the square. Years ago, he'd walked up those steps there with Padmé. They'd been aware of each other in a growing romantic sense at that point and later, they'd gone to the lake country. Inside him was an urge to visit that place, to stand on the balcony where they'd shared that kiss.

Vader tamped it down, ignored it. His wife would not go there. She would have to be stupid to go there and Padmé was not stupid. She was not going to make his search easy. That was fine. Easy was boring.

* * *

Alone in the ship, Padmé found herself reliving a moment from the past, another time when she'd succumbed to tears. Her children and Dormé were safe. It was only she in danger now. Tears overtook her, wet her face. Padmé cried out all of the pain she'd locked away for these long months until she was spent and fully numb, encased in ice. She had no tears left inside. It was all gone, leaving only grim determination behind. 

This had to happen. The Republic could be saved and with it, somehow, her Annie.

You're not alone, Padmé.

"I know," she whispered. The voice had guided her these months, rarely above a whisper, sometimes difficult to hear. She fancied it belong to the long dead Qui-Gon Jinn, for at times the intonations were his. Occasionally, she'd decided the voice was Obi-Wan Kenobi's, that good friend who'd tried to show her what she should have seen all along.

What they all should have seen.

Anakin was damaged, the when and how of it not completely clear. Had the rift inside him always been there? Did the little boy from memory have a shadow lurking in his heart the entire time? Did the rift begin the day he'd left his mother? Or the night he'd killed the Tusken Raiders?

Padmé would never know the answer to that. There were too many things added to the equation. Suffice it to say that somewhere along the road to adulthood, Anakin Skywalker had been irrevocably splintered into two. He had been changed and no one had seen it coming.

Those who love us best are often blinded to the worst in us. Blinded. Love blinded _me_. I'm sorry, Annie.

She shuddered.

Padmé piloted the ship to land, saw those waiting for her. She was expected.

Standing, Padmé made her way outside and onto the landing dock. The sight of the scruffy people waiting made her heart ache. They were a rag-tag bunch, scraped up and heavily burdened with sorrows, but determination glinted in those eyes as well as sorrow and Padmé drew herself up tall.

Courage, Padmé.

"For the Republic," she said simply.

The crowd answered in kind and she managed a small smile.

From the ashes of destruction, she thought, a rebellion is born. The way of the right and just must prevail. Bail fights his way. _This_ will be mine.

The true rebellion had begun.


	17. Chapter 17

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 17

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

**

* * *

**

Three years later:

Nic Pelléres could not believe his horrid luck. He'd left Coruscant and everything he owned to escape being killed for losing Padmé Skywalker and who should he run into while hiding with the Rebellion? Padmé Skywalker, now calling herself Tyra Shevrin, though she was highly recognizable as herself in his opinion. Not only that but he'd been captured by the Empire during a raid that _she'd_ orchestrated!

Hell. Life for him could not get much worse. He ran a hand though his hair, waiting for someone on this ship to get around to interrogating him. He'd already heard the screams of those who'd been captured with him and knew it wouldn't be long before they came for him. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to face the sort of pain he knew they'd set upon him. Nic was still young, with a lot of life left to live.

So what did he have to trade with? There had to be something the Empire wanted. What did he know that he could deal with and gain his freedom back? His desperate mind went over what he knew and he had to admit that there was precious little. He wasn't in the know. Nic wasn't a leader or privy to anything that went on in those kind of meetings. He was nothing more than an anonymous rebel sent to do the grunt work. Spying, stealing information, planting explosives. That sort of thing. He'd always been good at those things. The silent man following another in a crowd.

The thought brought him back to Padmé Skywalker and how he'd ended up with the Rebellion to begin with. Hiding out from Anakin Skywalker who'd put a steep price on his head. Staying away from that one had required delicate maneuvering at times. Yeah, Skywalker wanted them both. Him and Padmé. Padmé Skywalker. That woman was a thorn in his side and a pain in his ass.

He tapped his feet, crossed and uncrossed his arms. There had to be something...

What about Padmé? She was important. She was a leader. Rumor had it Skywalker was still looking for her too. Bringing her back to him ought to secure his freedom -- if he could manage not to get himself killed for his own running in the first place. Skywalker was not the forgiving sort.

Nic gulped, tugged at his collar. Had it just gotten tighter about his neck? No, just his over-active imagination. How could he spin his story to save himself? Nic thought for long minutes until an idea came to him. That was it! He'd tell Skywalker that he'd picked up Padmé's trail and had been planning to bring her back but had been mistakenly captured before he could do so.

Weak, Nic, he told himself. It might work though. Think it through a bit more and remember the golden rule about lying: keep it simple. Embellishing could get him tripped up. By the time guards came for him, he had his story ready.

He was taken to Tarkin himself, placed before him with hands still shackled. "You have information you're willing to share I believe you stated to my men?"

Nic licked his lips nervously. "Yes, I have information, but I'd like some assurances before I share it."

Tarkin's gaze was flat, devoid of emotion, as though he was disinterested in whatever Nic had to share. "Really. What sort of assurances would you like to secure, Mr. Pelléres?"

"Something special."

"Go on." Tarkin folded his hands on the table and waited.

A line of sweat ran down Nic's back, itching all the while. "I tell you what I know in exchange for being released."

"Tell me everything and I promise that some...special compensation will be yours." The smile on the man's thin lips gave Nic the shivers.

"I'll be released?"

"Oh, of course. I'll release you."

Nic told him about Padmé and about the name she used. He mentioned the upcoming raid and that Padmé would be going in first, before the men. She'd be almost alone, a perfect opportunity to capture her. He mentioned his story, which appeared to amuse the man. Then, he waited, chafing under Tarkin's unrelenting stare. "Well?"

The man tapped a finger on the table. "I'll need to verify it all, you understand."

"Of course."

He didn't even mind being shut back up in the cell. Tarkin had promised him he'd be released after all. Nic couldn't wait.

* * *

Artoo was safe with Captain Antilles and Padmé was on her own. She'd been on her own before but this time it was different. She was letting herself be caught. How long had it taken the Empire to break Nic Pelléres? Padmé didn't think it had taken long at all, not the sort of man Nic was. Looking out for his own neck. He'd likely told all in minutes and this plan was in the Empire's possession. 

She'd recognized Nic, that man Anakin had had following her before she'd left Coruscant for good. After three years, she'd still known him at a glance, wondered what he was doing there. Had he followed her? Was he under Anakin's orders? Careful probing had revealed that he himself had been dodging Anakin for three years.

Nic wasn't as careful as he liked to think he was. He'd been bounced about the rebellion, kept as ignorant of plans and locations as they could manage. No one fully trusted him and for good reason. He was not trustworthy. He'd sell anyone to save his own neck.

Which Padmé was counting on. His presence and the certainty that he'd recognized her had prodded her to take this final action.

She sighed. This plan, this carefully constructed plan. There was no raid, only Padmé by herself, letting the Empire take her to Anakin. Would he be there already or would she have to wait for him to arrive? Had time mellowed his anger with her any? Three years was a very long time to be mired in ire.

Padmé remembered the past three years. Oh how her arms had ached to hold her husband and children! Little Leia already a beauty at age three, her dark eyes showing a maturity beyond her young years. Padmé had spent precious few hours with her daughter, always when Bail was gone. And Luke, whom she'd not held since setting him in Dormé's arms. Did Luke look like Anakin, she wondered. Was he anything like his father?

And as for Dormé, her ever faithful friend. Had Dormé heeded Padmé's final order to take herself to an isolated planet and start a new life, or would she rise up as a leader in the Rebellion once word of Padmé's capture spread? She'd never know.

Padmé ached for the life she and Anakin could have had together. For the children they could have had. For a quiet life on Naboo with their love never giving them this pain. Most of all, she ached because she knew now that what could have been never really could have been at all.

They had dreamed together a beautiful and wholly unrealistic dream and Padmé treasured those brief moments when the dream had been real and their love had conquered all.

She treasured that kiss long ago that she never should have given him.

Padmé landed the ship, checked that she had what she needed and went to the ramp. The area looked deserted, but she caught a flashing of metal in the sunlight ahead on her right. Now or never, she thought, and left the relative safety of her ship. She never even got close to the facility, troops surrounding her, placing bonds at her wrists and leading her away. They seemed surprised that she didn't resist. Soon, she was facing Tarkin, allowing a tiny smile to tug at her lips.

How her efforts over the past three years must have frustrated this man!

He looked at her, eyes like cold hard chips and his thin lips tight together. He was not amused, his expression indicated. Padmé had the sudden urge to giggle. "Padmé Skywalker. Or is it Tyra Shevrin? No matter. Two names for the same woman. What an honor to have a criminal such as yourself aboard my ship."

Padmé held her tongue. She'd speak with Anakin and no other.

"I'll be informing your husband of your capture. He'll be ecstatic to see you alive," he remarked in a dry tone.

With that, she was led away.

* * *

Tarkin was having a wonderful week. He'd tortured two rebels, made a deal he had no intention of keeping with the third and he'd captured Vader's wife. A good week indeed. Now all he had to do was hand Pelléres and Padmé to Vader and he could go back to task of building the battle station. Finally. He was beginning to think the Emperor didn't want him to make any progress after all. 

Vader's image flickered a bit then held steady. "Yes?"

"Lord Vader," Tarkin said. "I have excellent news for you. You'll be pleased to hear that I have not only your errant wife in custody, but also the independent security officer you've been searching for."

A pleased expression crossed Vader's face, anticipation rolled up in it. "Thank you. Expect my arrival by tonight."

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Tarkin decided to catch up on reports while he waited. Let Padmé sit by herself and wonder when Vader would come for her.

* * *

There was anger still in him at her and also relief that she still lived. A tiny sliver of relief but there nonetheless. He had not stopped caring for her simply because she'd run off. No, his emotions had remained heavy inside him. 

Vader stepped onto Tarkin's ship, walked with him now to where Padmé was being held.

"She was unarmed," Tarkin was saying.

Vader was irritated with himself for feeling the slightest twinge of anticipation in seeing her again. He walked faster, Tarkin keeping pace.

"She had only one object in her possession." The man raised a hand, disclosing what he held in it. "A game piece from a silly war game. She relinquished it readily. We assured her that you'd see it."

Vader stopped, took the piece and clenched it in his hand. "My wife, still fighting for a lost cause. A dead cause. Let's see how smug she is when she's back on Coruscant where she belongs instead of out playing rebel."

Outside the door, Tarkin paused. "I'll leave her to you then. Pelléres will be waiting when you're done here."

He watched Tarkin until he turned the corner, then transferred his stare to the door. Three years. Three years without her beside him, without her smile and her voice. Three years of pain.

Vader stepped inside to confront his wife.

* * *

She felt his stare upon her and kept her own stare directed out the window. The Rebellion was organized as well as she would manage. They would be stable without her, she'd seen to that. Losing her wasn't an unrecoverable blow. 

Padmé kept her hands relaxed, ignored the bonds about her wrists, preferring to wait for him to speak first. Would he wait until they were alone or would he air old hurts before all?

"Leave us."

She watched the guard's reflections in the glass, saw them go without one word. Behind her, Anakin paced, his strides graceful and predatory. Padmé looked over her shoulder at him.

He held up the game piece as he walked. "Your command piece, Padmé. I've captured it. This time you _were_ careless. I've won this game."

"Have you, Anakin? That's funny, because I don't see your army surrounding my other two pieces."

"This isn't a game!" He threw the piece across the room. The table began to shake.

"No," she replied coolly. "It's war."

He calmed himself visibly, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly. The table stopped moving. "With my own wife playing rebel. A traitor."

She turned. The rebellion was comprised of those loyal to democracy. From his point of view, she supposed that would make her a traitor. From her own point of view, he was the traitor. Him and everyone else loyal to Palpatine. "I don't play, _Anakin_." She raised her chin a notch. "Surely you remember that."

He shook his head. "Don't call me that. My name is Vader and your rebel force is little more than a nuisance."

"Yet you've searched so hard for us. That claim doesn't sound true, does it? If we mean so little then why look for us?"

"You've hit nothing important. You _are_ playing. Insignificant."

"Just wait. When the time is right, your...Empire will fall."

"You're dreaming, Padmé." With a mirthless smile, he said the very words she'd once said to him. "We live in a real world. Come back to it."

"Look where we are, Anakin. Take a good, long look at the two of us. You're on the wrong side." The man he'd once been was not evident. He was buried under three years of darkness. Three years of Vader. Still, Padmé couldn't lose hope. The man she'd once loved, her Annie, was there somewhere inside him.

He was all adult now, the hint of boy gone from him. Padmé saw a maturity there that had not been present the last time she'd seen him face to face. He was so different from the little boy on Tatooine those long years ago. It saddened her to see the progression from that boy to this man.

She refused to call him Vader, that new name he went by. Perhaps using his real name could spark his true self to view. Or not. What did she have to lose by trying? Padmé was caught, his triumph in the air. He thought he'd trapped her, that she'd walked unknowingly into a trap.

No, she'd walked willingly. Things were unfinished between them and after three years, she couldn't bear it to continue any longer. Hers was a suicide mission, for only two things could occur. She'd live imprisoned by him or die trying to save him. There was no middle ground. One thing or the other. Anakin would return to the light or remain forever in darkness.

Padmé saw no other possibilities. Either way, she'd said her goodbyes. She could live or die and it would not affect this war. The Republic would rise again some day and the Empire would die.

"I'm on the winning side. It's the right one."

She watched him.

* * *

"I've carried something with me as well, my love." From a pouch on his belt, he drew out the japor snippet. He'd bought a new chain for it in anticipation of this day. Going to her, he slipped it about her neck, rested the carved piece at her breast. "There. That's better. Where it belongs." He might have smiled then, had he not glanced up to see her face. 

Her cool staring eyes were dispassionate, as though she felt nothing.

If Vader could feel regret, at that moment he would have. Never again would he know her passionate kisses or the gentle touch of her hand. It was hellish to realize that this woman would never be his. She was caught, trapped here with him and yet, Padmé was further away from him than she'd ever been.

His real hand raised, backs of his fingers smoothing along her cheek.

Vader recalled a warm sunny day on Naboo, the breeze gently blowing across the lake. He remembered her skin, so soft beneath his fingertips and the tilt of her head in invitation. He thought of her lips against his and he longed for the kiss she never should have given him.

That time was gone now, as though it had been nothing more than the wisp of a dream he'd conjured up to ease the aching loneliness inside him. Padmé was lost. No matter what he did, she'd never again belong to him.

And so, he'd bring their children back, reunite them and they'd be a family. Not exactly as he'd envisioned, but a family nonetheless. He would then kill Palpatine and rule the galaxy alone. Padmé would remain at home, a mother only, under guard to keep her there. Not an Empress or even a treasured wife.

It was her choice.

He'd tried to give her the galaxy and she'd chosen this instead.

Not what he'd envisioned at all, but he could live with it. He'd take what he could get.

So be it.

"I loved you," he murmured.

Padmé blinked, her calm unwavering. He might as well have told her the day was rainy on Naboo for all the emotion his words caused. "You loved power. It was Anakin who loved me. Don't confuse the two."

He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his detachment, to show her he had as much control as she. But Padmé made him madder faster than anyone else in the galaxy and he whirled, leaving her alone in the room. He gave the guards instructions and went to see Nic Pelléres.

* * *

Nic disliked Tarkin with a passion. The man was slimy and frankly made his skin crawl. However, he remained polite as the man chatted with him. And why not? He was about to be released. Tarkin had said so. He drummed his fingers on the table top, wondering why the delay. Couldn't they just shove him in a small ship and let him go? 

His bonds had been removed and he'd even been given a decent meal. The food was a bit better than the food he'd had with the Rebellion, but not by much.

"We are grateful for your information," Tarkin was saying. "My colleague was quite pleased with your efforts on our behalf. In fact, he should be here any moment to share his feelings on the matter."

As though it had been planned, the door opened and Anakin Skywalker stepped into the room. Nic pushed to his feet so fast his chair tipped over.

"Oh there you are, Lord Vader. I'll be on the bridge."

The former Jedi had his lightsaber out and on with the flick of his wrist.

"But," Nic stuttered, "You promised I'd be released!"

Tarkin gave him another thin smile. "Well I never said to _who_." Then he was gone, leaving Nic alone with Skywalker.

Anakin twirled his lightsaber in lazy movements. The blade danced in the air. "So good to see you Nic."

"I brought her back. I told them how to find her. I've been following her these three years." He was babbling, saying those same sentences over and over. Skywalker gave him a polite smile and continued to play with his weapon.

"Of course you were. You spent three whole years knowing where she was and didn't think to turn her in until you were caught yourself. Is that it?"

Well...yes. If he wanted to be technical about it. Nic took a few steps back.

"Did she trust you?"

Still, the man had not moved from the door, his movements slowing as he waited for an answer. "I think so."

"And you betrayed her in minutes?"

No emotion. Nic hadn't expected that. The Skywalker he remembered was hot tempered and quick to act. It was almost like this man was not him. Bizarre. "I suppose it could be put that way."

Skywalker was to him in a blink, mechanical hand grasping his shirtfront a lifting him high in the air. "You suppose? You betray everyone, don't you? You hold nothing dear. You have no loyalty to anyone or anything."

"I've told everything I know," he gasped, grasping at Skywalker's arm. The cloth of his shirt was twisted, hurting. "You can take the rebel leaders now."

"And we will. Thank you, but we needed no help from you on that matter. The rebels are nothing."

Nothing? Nic wondered if the Empire was truly aware of the network the rebels had set up. It was no puny thing to be squashed in a matter of days. The rebel movement was sweeping the galaxy, garnering more support as time went on. If they didn't capture the leaders now, it could last for years more.

He wondered if he should tell Skywalker that.

"Tarkin promised I'd be released."

Skywalker dropped him, watched him stumble back, still emotionless. Then he smiled a horrible smile. "Then I release you, Nic."

He had just enough time to see the red blade swinging towards him.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: When Angels Weep

Author: kasey8473

Summary: Anakin has won the duel with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Padmé must now manage to extricate herself and the babies from growing danger.

Chapter: 18

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this fic.

Notes: Thank you to everyone for your comments and suggestions. This story has been a joy to work on, though I must admit I cried as I wrote this final chapter. Thanks to GemL for the continuing beta work. Oh, and if you think you've noticed mirror moments, nods to various events in canon, and symbolism...You're probably right. ;) Questions, comments, colorful metaphors?

* * *

"Don't do this Anakin." Padmé closed her eyes, then immediately opened them as her stomach went queasy. He handled the speeder carelessly, pushing the speed to the limit, ignoring other drivers. 

"If you won't tell _me_ where our children are, the Emperor will get it from you."

They zoomed past other speeders, diving up and down to other lanes at his whim. Her hands clenched in reflex, but each time she thought he was going to lose control of the machine, he righted it. "Slow down please!"

A glance at his profile showed annoyance on his features. Their speed increased. "You worry too much, Padmé. You always have." His tone turned mocking and falsetto, throwing words she'd once spoken back at her. "I will not let you give up your future for me. We have to keep this secret. We can't tell anyone." Now his voice dropped down. "You worried too much."

He dived the speeder, weaving through the lanes of traffic. They missed a building corner by perhaps inches. Padmé was feeling quite ill, a clammy sweat on her brow and a rolling in her belly. "Anakin please!"

The machine leveled out. "You ripped our family apart. You _ran_ from me. And now you hide our children from their father. How motherly of you. I must admit I never expected such a turn from you. You were so loving with your nieces..." He nosed the speeder up now, throwing her back in her seat.

She had the feeling he was deliberately trying to unnerve her, to make her vulnerable. "You're not their father," she yelled. Her Annie was their father, not this twisted man pretending to be him.

He turned his head. His eyes bled from blue to yellow and red as she watched. Rage distorted his features. "What did you say?"

"You're not my Annie. You killed him when you forced him to bow to the dark side. He loved me. _He_ fathered the twins, not _you_."

He jerked his gaze back to the lane, leveling them out once more, a laugh bursting from it. "My powers have grown exponentially, my love. I'm the most powerful Force user in the galaxy because I took that step to freedom."

Tears welled in her eyes. "What freedom do you have, Anakin? You may be powerful but you still serve Palpatine. You're little more than a slave to his will --"

"No!" He pushed their speed a bit more. "I have more power and freedom than you can understand."

"Come back to me, Annie. Please come back. Leave Palpatine, leave Coruscant."

"Madness," he spat out.

"It's not too late."

The speeder began to shake from being at top speed, their swoops and turns becoming wide and almost sloppy. "You sound like Obi-Wan did. Tell me where our children are and we can be happy _here_. We don't need to go away, Padmé. We can have everything right here."

She let her sadness at giving away the twins flow forth. "We can't have them anymore, Anakin. The twins are gone. They're gone and they can't come back."

He went quiet, shaking his head. "No. No, you're lying. They're only children..."

"Please Anakin. Annie. You're a good man. Come back."

"They aren't dead, they can't be." His jaw clenched. "Be quiet, Padmé, just be _quiet_."

Padmé's throat began to close, breath wheezing and finally non-existent. Her Annie was gone, finally taken over by Vader. There was nothing remaining. No light, no love, no hope. The man she'd loved with all of her heart was gone. Vader had won.

Light blurred in her vision, darkness swirling about her. Air rushed back into her lungs, but it was already too late. Padmé released her hope and fell into the waiting dark.

By her own willing, Padmé Naberrie Skywalker, former Queen, esteemed Senator, wife and mother, passed quickly into death. The Force wrapped her up and absorbed the essence of her.

* * *

For once, Padmé heeded his request for silence. He released the Force hold on her throat and relaxed in the silence, enjoying the wind whipping at him and the speed propelling them. Flying, Vader could be his own being, in control of everything around him. After a moment, he sighed. 

"We can work this out, Padmé. We will --" His glance turned right to her and...

Anakin surfaced. He couldn't sense her anymore. His Padmé, his angel, was limp in the seat beside him, her eyes open and lifeless, staring.

No. Oh no.

His own eyes widened, right hand stretching to her , attention leaving the lane.

"Padmé." He prodded her and she slipped limp towards him, head falling onto his shoulder.

She's not breathing.

"No."

She's dead. She and the twins. All gone from him.

"No, no, no. What have I done? Padmé, come back to me!" He willed and willed her to return, but her body remained lifeless. Dead.

Vader surfaced. _You killed her._

The past came back to mock him. Images assailed him of his wife, from her gentle smile to her sadness, images he'd collected over the years. He saw her laughing and frowning, the sun on her beautiful face. He heard her laugh. Then he saw her staring in disbelief as he choked her on Mustafar.

Dead. She's dead. I killed her.

Anakin heard screaming, a metallic screeching, and then the speeder was out of his control and he could hear his own voice laughing hysterically as the ground seemed to fly up to meet them. There was heat, searing, unbearable heat along his body and a terrible numbness in his legs.

Too much feeling, such roiling emotions. The emotions hurt.

He closed his eyes and let the agony rush over him. Anakin couldn't live without her. Without her, without their children. What was there left for a good man? He retreated into the deepest recesses of his mind and let Vader take control once more, welcoming the darkness that covered him over.

In the darkness, he didn't have to feel.

* * *

_Years later..._

...a boy on Tatooine becomes a man and receives a lightsaber for his birthday. He puts it away and wakes one night to find a transparent man beside his bed. He learns of the past, of the Jedi, and that his destiny is closer than he thinks.

...a young Alderaan Princess serving as Senator in the Imperial Senate races towards a hidden base with stolen plans in her possession.

...Anakin Skywalker stirs in his place in Vader's mind. He senses something familiar; a thing he'd long ago put away as lost.

_Hope._

_**The End**_


End file.
